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Dora  and  the  Angel. 


THE  MAmEJ^HOOd)  SECklES, 


DAISY  TRAVERS; 


OB, 


THE  GIELS   OF  HIYE  HALL. 


BY 


ADELAIDE  F.  SAMUELS, 

AUTHOB  OF  "mCK  AND  DAISY  STOBIB8,"  "DICK  TBAYBBS  ABBOAD,"  ETC. 


BOSTON: 
LEE    &   SHEPARD,   PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK: 

CHARLES   T.    DILLINGHAM, 

1876. 


COPTBIGHT    BT 
LEK   AND    SHEPABD, 

1876. 


Eleotrolyped  by  G.  G.  Morse  &  Son,  Haverhill,  Mass. 


TO 
LILIAN     TRASK    HARLOW, 

OF  QUlKCr,  HAS&, 

This  (Book  is  Affectionately  (Dedicated 

BY    THE    AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


tfxa*. 
CHAPTER    I. 

Hive  Hall,  and  How  it  Cams:  to  Exist,       „  .        11 

CHAPTER    II. 
Dora's  Curiosity, 24 

CHAPTER    III. 
What  Can  be  Done  With  Her  ?      .         .         .42 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Cheery-Stones,  and  Mrs.  Hodges  Method,      .         56 

CHAPTER    V. 
Lucy  "  Rooms  "  With  Dora,    .         .         .         .        Y9 

CHAPTER    VI. 
Dora  "  Pays  "  Daisy, 100 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VII. 
A  SuBPKisE  FOR  "Aunt  Daisy,",      .        .        .       114 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
Awarding  the  Peize,         .....       124 

CHAPTER    IX. 
Pets, 133 

CHAPTER    X. 
A  Gipsy  Foktune-Telleb,  .        .        .        ,152 

CHAPTER    XI. 
Poor  Dora, 169 

CHAPTER    XII. 
Caught  in  a  Storm, 181 

CHAPTER     XIII. 
Under  Anne's  Window,    .        ,        .        .        ,      191 

*      CHAPTER    XIV. 
The  Reading  Club, 20t 

CHAPTER    XV. 
Belle  Cleverly,        ......       221 

CHAPTER     XVI. 
At  Mrs.  Johnson's, 240 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
A  Letter  From  Edgar, 251 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
Never  Coming  Back, 269 

CHAPTER    XIX. 
Conclusion, 2^6 


DAISY  TRAYERS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

HIVE   HALL,   AND     HOW   IT   CAME   TO   EXIST. 

jHAT  a  bright,  sunshiny  morning  it 
was  !  and  what  a  curious,  prying  thing 
the  sun  is,  anyhow !  How  it  did  try 
to  squeeze  the  whole  of  itself  into  Hive  Hall 
school-room  on  this  particular  morning.  It  could 
not,  of  course,  but  so  much  of  it  never  succeeded 
in  getting  in  before.  It  was  all  over  the  room, 
in  squares,  angles,  and  bars,  and  every  shape 
you  could  think  of.  Doubtless  it  knew  that  this 
morning  Daisy  intended  to  make  her  first  speech 
to  the  twenty-five  children  who  were  watching 
her  so  curiously,  as  she  stood  in  a  great  patch 
of  sunshine  upon  the  platform.  It  was  well  for 
.her,  that  the  sun   did  shine  ;    a    cloudy  morning 

11 


12  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

•would  have  lowered  her  spirits,  and  perhaps, 
deprived  her  of  the  courage  to  say  what  she 
wanted  to. 

Daisy  Travers  was  the  adopted  "grand-daughter 
of  a  wealthy  old  man,  named  Milly,  who  looked 
upon  her  as  perfection,  and  who  would  no  more 
have  thought  of  refusing  to  comply  with  any 
of  her  whims,  than  he  would  have  forgiven 
any  one  for  underrating   her  beauty  or  goodness. 

She  was  nearly  sixteen ;  small,  but  faultless  in 
form ;  with  a  sad,  sweet  face,  deep  blue  eyes 
and  hair — well,  it  was  light,  long  and  naturally 
curly ;  poor  words  to  express  all  its  beauty. 

Her  short  struggle  with  poverty  had  awakened 
in  her  a  sympathy  for  the  poor,  that  few  girls 
of  her  age  can  understand.  Her  last  charitable 
whim,  the  founding  of  Hive  Hall,  was  one  that 
would  be  likely  to  cause  her  much  trouble, 
and  anxiety,  but  if  carried  bravely  through,  her 
compensation  would  be  evident.  The  twenty-five 
children  before  her  had  been  taken  from  miser- 
ably-conducted country  poor-houses,  and  bound 
to  grandfather  Milly :  why  they  were  there  we 
will  let  Daisy  tell. 

"  You  are  all  here,  at  last :  "  said  she,  flashing 
a  glance  over  the  faces  before  her :  "  and  now  I 


HIVE  HALL.  13 

am  going  to  tell  you  wliy  you  are  here ;  but 
first  I  will  tell  you  a  true  story  that  you  will 
all  be  able  to  understand.  Once  upon  a  time 
there  was  a  very  little  girl  who  lived  with  her 
father,  and  mother,  and  brother,  in  a  country 
town,  not  a  great  many  miles  from  here.  She 
was  a  very  happy  little  girl.  All  of  you,  I  am 
sure,  know  what  it  is  to  be  happy.  Just  think 
of  some  time  when  you  were  very  happy,  indeed, 
then  believe  that  this  little  girl  was  just  so 
happy  all  the  time,  until  one  day  her  father 
died ;  very  soon  after  that  her  mother  died  also, 
and  she  was  told  that  her  brother  would  have 
to  leave  her,  and  go  out  into  the  world  to  seek 
his  fortune,  while  she,  all  alone,  must  go  to  the 
poor-house.  Then  was  ever  there  such  an 
unhappy  little  girl  as  she.  She  had  heard  such 
dreadful  stories  about  that  poor-house.  She 
would  never  be  able  to  sleep  there,  she  knew, 
but  would  he  every  night  with  her  eyes  wide 
open,  waiting  for  something  dreadful  to  happen. 
She  was  so  frightened,  aud  cried  so  at  the 
thought  of  going  there,  that  at  last  her  brother 
resolved  to  take  her  with  him,  and  they  would 
seek  their  fortunes  together.  Then  in  her  great 
joy,  she   thought   of   those   less   fortunate   than 


14  DAIS  r  TEA  VERS, 

she,  and  made  a  vow  to  herself  that  if  it  was 
ever  in  her  power  to  make  even  a  few  of  them 
happy,  she  would  do  it,"  here  Daisy  paused  to 
take  breath.  Twenty-five  pairs  of  eyes,  were 
fixed  earnestly  upon  her  face,  but  she  did  not 
feel  now  as  though  they  belonged  to  strangers  ; 
no,  they  belonged  to  those  whom  she  had  thought 
of,  and  planned  for,  in  her  mind  for  months,  and 
years.  "  They  were  very  fortunate,  this  brother 
and  sister,"  continued  Daisy.  "  They  were  soon 
adopted  by  a  good  man,  who  proved  to  be  very 
rich,  and  became  so  fond  of  his  adopted  grand- 
children that  he  would  deny  them  nothing  they 
might  ask  of  him.  So  it  was  now  in  this  girl's 
power  to  "perform  what  she  had  vowed  to  do. 
Her  good  fortune  did  not  make  her  forget  that 
vow,  you  will  believe,  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
am  that  girl,  and  have  gathered  you  here  to 
befriend  j^ou.  This,  henceforth  will  be  your 
home,  and  I  will  try  to  make  it  all  that  a  home 
can  be.  You  have  all  of  you,  I  think,  seen  girls 
and  boys  whom  you  have  envied ;  they  were  well 
clad,  while  you  were  in  rags ;  they  were  well 
fed,  while  you  were  hungry  ;  they  were  petted, 
and  rewarded,  and  Santa-Claus  never  forgot  them 
Christmas   time.     Henceforth  you   will   be    well 


HIVE  HALL.  15 

^clad,  well  fed,  petted,  and  rewarded,  and  Santa- 
jy^yt/lsiVLS  will  never  forget  to  -visit  Hive  Hall." 
How  the  sun  did  rush  into  the  room !  One 
would  think  all  the  children  were  sun-struck, 
they  sat  so  still;  and  how  it  did  make  their 
eyes  shine,  as  they  listened  to  Daisy. 

"  I  will  do  everything  that  can  be  done  for 
you,"  continued  she,  "  and  all  I  ask  in  return 
is,  that  you  will  love  each  other,  and  me,  as  I 
shall  love  you ;  and  that  you  will  honestly  try  to 
do  the  best  you  can,  always.  If  you  will  do  that,  I 
shall  have  cause  to  be  proud  of  this  school,  and 
I  want  to  be  proud  of  it.  I  want  to  see  you 
grow  up  into  men  and  women  that  anyone  would 
be  proud  to  know.  I  want  to  be  able  to  say 
one  of  these  days,  when  some  one  is  telling  me 
about  a  great  man,  and  his  works,  — '  why,  that's 
one  of  my  boys ! '  and  when  I  hear  every  one 
talking  about  some  woman,  who  is  making  a 
glorious  name,  I  want  to  be  able  to  say,  '  yes, 
she  is  one  of  my  girls ! '  But  more  than  all,  I 
want  to  know  that  you  are  every  one  good,  and 
true :  I  want  to  feel  always  that  I  can  trust 
you ;  then  I  can  pity  the  world  if  it  should 
never  know  you.  Now,  boys  and  girls,  if  you 
feel  Uke  giving  three  cheers  for  Hive  Hall,  you 


16  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

need  not  be  afraid  of  making  a  noise,"  and  Daisy 
smilingly  Tvithdrew,  just  in  time  to  escape  the 
full  sound  of  such  a  cheer  !  The  like  was  never 
uttered  by  twenty-five  pauper  children  before. 

"  She  shall  have  cause  to  be  proud  of  me  !  " 
exclaimed  one  bright  boy,  looking  with  much 
satisfaction  upon  his  neat  clothes. 

"  And  me  !  " 

"And  me!" 

"  And  me  !  "  sounded  from  every  side  of  the 
room. 

"  Don't  make  fools  of  yourselves !  "  petulantly 
exclaimed  the  girl  who  had  come  the  very  first 
day.  "  Just  keep  still,  and  see  what  she  wants 
of  us.  I've  heard  fine  talk  before.  It's  my 
opinion  she's  something  like  crazy  Bet,  where  I 
came  from.  '  Dora,'  she'd  say  to  me,  'Dora, 
your  dress  is  'bout  gin  out,  that's  a  fac,'  Dora!  " 
Then  she'd  go  on  to  tell  how  I'd  soon  have  a 
new  one,  and  she'd  get  it  for  me,  if  I'd  only 
get  the  key  to  the  store-room,  and  go  in,  an' 
steal  her  some  tea  an'  sugar.  If  I  stole  tea  an' 
sugar  for  her  once,  I  stole  it  a  hundred  times, 
but  all  the  dress  I  ever  got  was  made  out  of  a 
meal-bag." 

"  But  you  have  one  now  ?  "  said  the  boy  who 
spoke  first. 


HIVE  HALL.  17 

"  Yes,  an'  it's  such  a  dreadful  good  one  I 
can't  get  it  through  my  head  what  she'll  expect 
me  to  do  for  it.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  she  wanted 
me  to  steal  all-out-doors,  for  this  dress." 

"  I  don't  believe  she'll  want  us  to  steal.  She 
is  good,  I  know,  for  she  talks  just  the  way  my 
mother  did,  ever  so  long  ago,  before  she  died," 
spoke  up  a  pale-faced  girl,  of  seven  years,  or 
thereabouts. 

"  Besides  she  is  rich,  and  what  should  she 
want  us  to  steal  for.  She  isn't  like  your  crazy 
Bet.  She  can  buy  any  thing  if  she  wants  it!  " 
argued  the  first  speaker. 

"  I've  seen  rich  people  before  to-day,  I  guess. 
It  was  only  last  summer  that  a  rich  lady  came 
to  me,  an'  wanted  me  to  pick  her  some  barberries 
to  preserve.  I  was  two  days  pickin'  um,  an' 
scratched  the  skin  all  off  my  hands.  She  said 
she'd  give  me  a  new  dress  for  um,  but  she  never 
did,  an'  she  kept  my  box,  too,  that  I  picked 
um  in.  You  can't  tell  me  any  thing  about  rich 
folks." 

"You  came  here  first,  didn't  you?  "Well,  has 
she  ever  treated  you  bad,  or  asked  you  to  do 
any  thing  that  was  mean?"  questioned  tho  first 
speaker,    while    the    other    children,    who    were 

2 


18  DAISY  TEA  VERS. 

beginning  to  forget  Daisy's  speech,  listened  atten- 
tively. 

"  No,  she  never  did,  as  yet,  that's  what  makes 
me  think  it'll  be  a  regular  'stonisher  vrhen  it 
does  come.  I'd  do  a  good  deal  to  keep  these 
fine  clothes,  an'  live  as  I  have  for  the  last  two 
weeks,  but  I  can  tell  you  I'd  feel  safer  with 
crazy  Bet,  any  day." 

"  Say,  Dora,  what  do  they  want  such  a  thick 
table  for?  "  questioned  an  intelligent  looking 
girl  who  stood  near  the  one  addressed,  pointing 
at  the  piano.  "  It  looks  to  me  as  though  it  was 
hollow.  They'll  lock  some  of  us  up  in  it,  some 
day,  I'U  bet." 

"  That  ain't  a  table,"  replied  Dora,  "  that's  a 
hand-organ.  I  saw  one  at  that  rich  lady's  house, 
I  was  telling  about.  They  can  make  music  come 
out  of  it." 

One  little  fellow  was  about  to  inform  them 
that  it  was  a  piano,  when  the  door  opened,  and 
the  teacher,  followed  by  Daisy,  entered  the 
school-room.  She,  the  teacher,  was  a  pleasant- 
faced,  middle-aged  woman,  to  whom  Daisy  had 
become  already  very  much  attached. 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Burns,  your  teacher,"  said 
Daisy,  addressing  the  scholars.     "  She  is  going 


HIVE  HALL.  19 

to  tell  you  how  liow  she  intends  to  teach 
you." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  tell  them ;  I  am 
sure  you  can  make  them  understand  better  than 
I  can,"  said  Mrs.  Burns,  to   Daisy. 

"Very  well,  then ;  sit  down  ;  or  first  let  me 
have  a  piece  of  chalk,  if  you  have  some  handy, 
and  I  will  try  to  illustrate  my  meaning  on  the 
black-board."  The  chalk  was  soon  in  Daisy's 
hand.  "  Now  I  will  draw  you  a  picture  of  one 
kind  of  a  teacher,  and  the  way  she  teaches," 
said  she,  turning  to  the  board.  "  I  will  first 
draw  a  ladder,  which  we  will  call  the  ladder  of 
learning.  I  will  now  draw  a  picture  of  a  little 
child  just  ready  to  step  upon  the  first  round  of 
the  ladder  ;  and  here's  another  child  half  through 
school,  or  half  way  up  the  ladder.  Now  I  draw 
a  picture  of  the  teacher  —  not  your  teacher, 
remember  —  who  comes  up  with  spectacles  on, 
and  a  stick  in  her  hand,  and  falls  to  beating 
the  two  children  as  they  go  up  the  ladder.  How 
she  makes  her  stick  fly.  The  children  don't 
want  to  go  up  now,  but  she  makes  them  ;  she 
wont  let  them  stop  to  take  breath ;  and  if  they 
manage  wearily  to  climb  a  round  or  two  faster 
than  usual,  that  is  an  encouragement  for  her  to 


20  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

beat  the  harder,  until  they  reach  'the  top  ;  and 
then  they  are  so  tired,  and  glad  to  be  through 
with  it  all,  that,  instead  of  striking  out  to  the 
right,  or  the  left,  they  tottle  over  on  the  other 
side  of  the  ladder,  fall  down,  and  forget  nearly 
all  they  have  learned.  Now  I'll  draw  a  picture 
of  your  ladder,  and  the  way  you  are  going  up 
it.  There  it  is,  and  you  can  just  imagine  that 
you  are  all  of  you  here  at  the  foot,  ready  to 
take  your  first  step  up.  Here  stands  Mrs.  Burns. 
She  hasn't  any  stick  in  her  hand,  but  her  hands 
are  ready  to  help  you  up ;  and  here  is  something 
hanging  from  this  fir.t  round  that's  worth  climb- 
ing fur.  It  will  take  just  three  months  to  climb 
the  first  round.  At  the  end  of  that  time  we  will 
have  a  holiday,  and  the  boy  and  girl  who  have 
had  the  most  perfect  lessons,  in  those  three 
months,  shall  receive  a  prize ;  but  there  are  some 
of  you  who  will  deserve  a  prize,  because  you 
will  work  for  it  as  hard  as  the  one  who"  will 
get  it,  and  will  lose  it  only  because  you  have 
not  the  power  to  remember  your  lessons  as  well 
as  the  lucky  one  ;  and  so,  that  you  may  all 
stand  on  equal  ground,  I  have  decided  to  give 
out  two  prizes,  just  alike,  to  the  girls,  and  two 
to   the    boys :   one   for   perfect   lessons,  and    the 


HIVE  HALL.  21 

other  for  good  conduct.  Now,  I  will  show  you 
what  the  prizes  will  be,  and  you  can  decide  for 
yourselves  if  they  are  worth  striving  for."  So 
saying,  Daisy  left  the  school-room,  but  soon 
returned,  holding  in  her  hands  a  perfect  little 
ship,  two  feet  in  length  ;  and,  to  judge  from  the- 
exclamations  of  the  boys,  as  she  carried  it  among 
them,  for  their  inspection,  they  thought  it  would 
be  worth  striving  for. 

"These  sails  can  be  furled,  and  here  is  an 
anchor  that  will  be  strong  enough  to  hold  it  in 
a  gale.  I  have  another  ship,  just  like  this  one, 
for  the  other  prize,  and  there  is  a  beautiful  pond, 
not  far  from  here,  where  the  two  boys  who  get 
them,  may  sail  them,  without  danger  to  them- 
selves. I  am  very  curious  to  know  which  two  of 
all  these  boys,  will  get  them.  Mrs.  Burns,  will 
you  show  the  girls  what  their  prize  will  be  ? " 
continued  Daisy,  addressing  the  teacher. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the'  reply,  and  Mrs.  Burns 
left  the  room.  Returning  in  a  few  minutes,  she 
caused  a  great  excitement  among  the  girls,  for 
in  her  arms  was  the  most  wonderful  doll  they 
had  ever  seen.  It  had  real  hair,  and  eyes  that 
would  open  and  shut ;  and  was  dressed  so  hand- 
somely.    But  that  was  not  all.     The   cunningest 


22  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

little  trupk,  with  a  lock  and  key,  and  full  of 
more  clothes  for  dollie,  made  the  prize  complete. 
Mrs.  Burns  took  out  all  the  dresses,  and  exhib- 
ited them,  then  folded  them  away  again  in  the 
trunk,  and  turned  the  key  in  the  lock ;  not 
omitting  to  say  that  there  was  another  doll  and 
trunk  exactly  like  that  she  had  in  her  hand ; 
and  at  the  end  of  three  months,  the  girl  who 
had  learned  her  lessons  the  best  would  receive 
one,  and  the  girl  who  had  behaved  the  best 
would  receive  the  other.  Then  Daisy  and  the 
teacher  went  out  with  the  prizes,  and  left  the 
scholars  for  a  while,  that  they  might  have  a 
talk  about  them. 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think  about  it,  Dora  ?  " 
questioned  three  or  four  girls,  as  soon  as  they 
had  gone. 

"  It's  dreadful  queer,  any  way." 

"  Perhaps  you  think  she'll  want  you  to  steal 
'  all-out-doors,'  now  ?  "  questioned  the  boy  who 
had  been  the  first  to  speak  before,  and  whose 
name  was  Edgar  Ford. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  crazy  Bet  would  say 
she  will  want  me  to  do,  if  she  was  here." 

"  What  would  she  ?  " 

"  Why,  she'd   pull   her   white   hair  all  down 


HIVE  HALL.  23 

over  her  face,  then  she'd  say,  '  I  tell  you  what, 
Dora,  she'll  want  you  to  go  up  and  bring  down 
the  moon,  then  she'll  want  you  to  drive  the  man 
out  of  it  with  a  broom-stick.  Then  she'd,  crazy 
Bet  would,  tell  me  not  to  do  it,  because  she 
tried  to  do  it  once,  herself,  an'  the  moon  rocked 
over  on  her.  That's  how  she  came  to  be  moon- 
struck." 

"  Are  you  going  to  try  to  get  one  of  the 
dolls  ?  "  interrogated  a  small  girl  who  stood  near 
her. 

"  Land,  no  !  I  couldn't  get  a  lesson  an'  I 
couldn't  behave.  But  I  should  like  to  get  it, 
just  to  break  its  head  open,  to  see  what  makes 
its  eyes  open  an'  shut.  It's  dreadful  queer  how 
it  does  that." 

"  Oh-o-o  !  "  groaned  all  the  girls.  "  Break 
that  beautiful  doll !  " 

"  What's  it  good  for,  anyhow  !  " 

"  Don't    tell   her !     Don't    have  any   thing    to 
say  to  her!"     exclaimed   a  quiet-appearing  girl 
named  Anne  Porter,  indignantly. 


CHAPTER    II. 

Dora's  ctjriosity. 

PRESENTLY  the  dinner  bell  sounded,  and 
the  children  were  not  slow  to  accept 
the  invitation  to  that  meal.  In  a  won- 
derfully short  space  of  time,  they  were  all  in 
the  dining-room,  enjoying  themselves  as  only 
those  who  know  what  it  is  to  be  hungry,  can 
enjoy  themselves  when  a  good  meal  is  put  before 
them. 

Grandfather  Milly  was  there,  trotting  up  and 
down  between  the  long  tables,  "  seeing,"  as  he 
said,  "  if  the  children  knew  how  to  eat."  He 
decided  they  did,  and  that  was  the  only  thing 
they  did  know. 

After  dinner  the  children  had  permission  to 
go  out  of  doors,  or  amuse  themselves  in  their 
own  rooms  or  in  the  school-room,  as  it  was 
Saturday,  and  work  would  not  really  begin  till 
the  next  Monday  morning. 
24 


DORA'S  CURIOSITY.  25 

It  was  such  a  pleasant  day,  nearly  all  pre- 
ferred to  go  out  of  doors.  Dora  was  the  only 
one  who  returned  to  the  school-room. 

The  sun  had  nearly  gone.  Two  or  three  rays 
remained  upon  the  front  desks,  as  though  to' 
watch  Dora.  On  entering,  she  closed  the  door 
after  her,  then  seated  herself  on  the  step  of  the 
platform,  and  placing  her  chin  in  her  hands, 
rested  her  elbows  upon  hep  knees.  For  a  long 
time  she  sat  perfectly  still,  looking  straight 
before  her.  Then  she  turned  her  head,  and  her 
gaze  rested  upon  the  piano.  After  looking  at  it 
for  a  few  minutes,  she  arose  and  approached  it. 
Then  a  careful  survey  of  all  its  parts  followed. 
Doubtless  she  was  looking  for  the  handle,  to 
turn  it,  as  she  had  seen  organ-grinders  turn  the 
handle  of  an  organ ;  but  of  course  her  search 
was  fruitless,  and  she  soon  turned  from  it  in 
disgust,  and  approached  the  teacher's  desk  ;  this 
she  tried  to  open,  but  it  proved  to  be  locked. 
Stepping  down  from  the  platform  she  walked  to  a 
window,  and  looked  down  upon  the  children 
who  appeared  to  be  enjoying  themselves  in  the 
yard  below.  For  a  while  they  claimed  her 
attention,  then  she  discovered  that  she  was  very 
near    the    door    through   which    Daisy   and    the 


26  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

teacher  had  carried  the  prizes.  Opening  the 
door  softly,  she  looked  into  the  next  room ;  no 
one  was  there.  Entering,  the  first  thing  that 
caught  •  her  eye  was  a  long,  green  pasteboard 
box,  on  a  chair ;  this  she  opened  immediately, 
and,  behold !  there  lay  the  beautiful  wax  doll ! 
"  Crazy  Bet  always  said  I'd  be  lucky  some 
day,  an'  now  what  am  I,  I'd  hke  to  know  ?  " 
said  she  aloud,  taking  out  the  doll  by  its  pink 
silk  sash.  "  Now  we'll  see  what  makes  it  wink. 
I  wonder  how  she  made  it  go  ?  Oh,  I  see  !  Yes, 
I  can  do  it.  That's  the  queerest  I  It  must  look 
funny  inside,  and  I'd  like  to  see  it.  Perhaps  1 
can  take  the  head  off,  an'  stick  it  on  again, 
some  way.  It  would  be  fun  to  fix  it  so  only 
one  eye'U  open.  Can't  get  the  head  off  without 
breaking  it  all  to  smash,  that's  a  sure  thing ; 
but  if  I  had  a  knife  or  somethin',  I  could  dig  a 
piece  out  of  the  back,  under  the  hair,  an'  it 
would  never  be  noticed."  With  that  Dora  cast 
her  eyes  around  the  room,  in  search  of  a  "  knife 
or  something,"  and,  unfortunately,  a  pair  of 
scissors  were  in  plain  sight  upon  the  table. 
"  Just  the  thing,"  continued  she,  as  she  took 
them  up,  and  looked  at  them ;  then,  seating  her- 
self in  the  chair,  she  placed  the  doU  across  her 


DORA'S  cuRiosirr.  27 

lap,  face  downwards,  and  began  her  operations. 
But  she  had  not  imagined  it  would  be  so  tender, 
and  the  beautiful  prize,  in  less  than  a  minute, 
was  without  a  head-;  all  that  remained  whole  of 
the  handsome  face  was  two  glass  eyes. 

"  January,  February,  March  !  Won't  the  girls 
groan  when  they  know  it  ?  If  I  had  a  tater,  or 
turnip,  or  somethin',  I'd  make  a  head  an'  put 
these  eyes  in."  And  there  was  something  Hke 
consternation  in  Dora's  face,  as  she  looked  at 
the  little  pile  of  rubbish  in  her  lap,  then  held 
tip  the  gaily  dressed  doll,  which  was  all  perfect 
but  the  head,  making  a  happy  caricature  of 
some  of  our  fashionable  belles. 

A  step  sounded  in  the  school-room.  Some 
one  was  there,  and  would  discover  her,  with 
the  broken  doll.  Quickly  and  noiselessly  sho 
returned  it  to  the  box,  and  covered  it  up,  then 
she  glided  into  a  closet,  and  closed  the  door 
after  her,  just  as  Daisy  entered  the  room. 

"  Guess  they  won't  find  out  who  did  it  just 
yet,"  said  she  to  herself,  nestling  down  in  a 
dark  corner.  An'  they  can't  say  I  did  it,  when 
they  didn't  see  me.  If  they  say  I  did,  I'll  say 
I  didn't;  then  they'll  have  to  lay  it  to  the 
worms.      Stands    to    reason,   worms    will  eat  a 


28  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

doll's  head  off  if  it's  kep'  in  a  box  for  three 
months  ;  they'd  eat  mine  off  in  half  that  time." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Daisy,  aloud,  for  it  was 
she  who  entered  the  room,  "  I  thought  that  doll 
had  been  put  away.  I'm  glad  the  girls  didn't 
come  in  here,  for  I  don't  want  them  to  see  it 
again  till  it's  given  as  a  prize.  There's  the  key 
left  in  the  closet  door,  too !     How  careless  ! 

"Oh,  she's  goin'  to  lock  me  in,  is  she  ?  Not 
if  I  know  it,"  thought  Dora,  and  stepping  out 
'of  the  closet,  she  astonished  Daisy,  by  suddenly 
appearing  at  her  side. 

"  Why,  how  you  startled  me !  I  did  not  hear 
you  come  in." 

"  Can  I  do  any  thing  for  you  ?"  questioned 
Dora,  looking  at  the  box. 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  to,"  replied  Daisy,  siir- 
prised  at  the  question,  coming  from  one  of  her 
most  doubtful  pupils,  and  very  glad  to  encourage 
the  feeling  that  she  thought  had  prompted  it. 
"  You  can  take  that  box  and  put  it  on  a  shelf  in 
this  closet.  I'll  open  the  door  for  you.  Be  very 
careful,  because  there  is  something  in  it  that 
will  break,  if  you  let  it  fall." 

"  Oh,  I  shan't  let  it  fall,"  replied  Dora,  ready 
to  laugh  aloud  at  her  own  smartness,  as  she  took 


DORA'S  cuRiosirr.  29 

up  the  box  and  carried  it  to  the  closet.  But 
fortune  was  against  her,  that  day.  On  hfting 
Tip  the  box,  one  end  of  it  hit  the  shelf,  and 
down  it  fell,  but  she  managed  to  catch  it  before 
it  touched  the  floor. 

"There!"  exclaimed  Daisy,  in  dismay,  as  she 
saw  it  falling. 

"  Jt  didn't  hurt  it  any,  I  caught  it,"  said  Dora, 
hastily  placing  it  upon  the  shelf. 

"  No,  it  could  not  have  got  broken.  The 
prize  doll  is  in  it.  Perhaps  I  should  have  told 
you  before,  and  you  would  have  been  more  careful. 
I  think  I'll  see  if  the  dress  got  disarranged, 
because  it  will  never  do  to  give  it  all  rumpled 
up  to  the  little  giil  who  will  work  hard  to  get 
it." 

"  It  didn't  get  rumpled,  I  know.  It  went 
straight  down,  an'  didn't  tip  up  a  bit,"  said  Dora, 
making  an  attempt  to  shut  the  door. 

"  It's  always  best  to  be  sure,"  replied  Daisy, 
taking  down  the  box,  and  opening  it. 

"  Why,  it  is  broken  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  aston- 
ishment, as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  headless  doll. 

"  It  did  break  after  all;  didn't  it?  "  said  Dora, 
with  a  very  emotionless  face. 

"  Yes,  but  that  fall  never  broke   it,  and   scat- 


30  DAIS  r  TRA  VERS, 

tered  the  .pieces  about,  as  they  are  scattered 
here,  besides  putting  a  pair  of  scissors  on  top. 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  truth,  now,  Dora, 
without  fear;  have  you  had  this  doll  before, 
to-day?" 

"  No  mum,"  was  the  dogged  reply. 

"  You  are  quite  sure  ?  Look  me  in  the  face 
now.  What  ?  You  will  not  ?  that  looks  bad. 
Where  were  you  when  I  came  into  the  room  ?  " 

"  Down  stairs." 

"  With  the  other  children?  " 

*'  Yes  mum." 

'•  Halloo !  what's  all  this  about  ?  "  interrogated 
grandfather  Milly,  putting  his  head  in  at  the 
door.     "  What's  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  Come  in,  grandpa.  Dora,  you  can  go  up  to 
your  room,  now,  and  I  want  you  to  think  of 
what  you  have  been  telling  me.  If  you  decide 
you  haven't  told  me  everything  just  as  you 
should  have  done,  and  want  to  tell  me,  you'U 
find  me  here  till  supper  time." 

"I  didn't  know  but  the  worms  might  a'  done 
it,"  said  Dora,  looking  straight  into  Daisy's  eyes. 

"  What  worms  ?  " 

"  The  worms  as  eats  folks  after  they're  dead. 
You  see  it  was  kinder  as  though  it  was  dead 
an'  buried,  shut  up  in  that  box." 


DORA'S  CURIOSITT,  31 

"  You  can  go !  "  said  Daisy,  very  decidedly, 
holding  the  door  open  for  her  to  pass  out. 

"  Now  what's  it  all  about  ?  "  questioned  the 
old  man,  who  knew  by  the  expression  on  Daisy's 
face  that  something  had  gone  wrong. 

For  an  answer  Daisy  showed  him  the  headless 
doll,  then  repeated  the  conversation  that  had 
passed  between  herself  and  Dora,  and  told  him 
her  suspicions.  Poor  Daisy !  she  had  expected 
sympathy,  and  was  not  at  all  prepared  for  the 
burst  of  laughter  that  followed. 

"  I  did  not  think  you  could  be  so  unkind  as 
to  laugh  about  any  thing  so  serious,"  said  she, 
reproachfully,  and  nearly  ready  to  cry. 

"  Can't  help  it,  Daisy.  It's  laughable  to  see 
you  ready  to  cry  over  the  first  fib,  and  you  are 
not  sure  yet  that  it  is  a  fib,  either  ;  it  might 
have  been  the  worms:  ha!  ha!  ha!  " 

To  this  Daisy  madq  no  reply,  but  walked  to 
the  window,  and  looked  out. 

"  Come,  Daisy,  I'll  promise  not  to  laugh  any 
more.  You  haven't  told  me  half  yet.  Are  you 
quite  sure  she  did  it  ?  "  said  the  old  man,  ready 
enough  to  stop,  on  seeing  that  Daisy  was  really 
very  much  distressed. 

"  I  am  very  sure  she  did.     I  think    she    must 


32  DAIS  r  TR A  VERS. 

have  been  here  before  I "  came  in.  I  don't  see 
how  she  could  have  come  in  at  the  door  without 
my  seeing  her ;  and  she  seemed  so  anxious,  too, 
to  put  the  box  away,  without  having  it  opened." 

"  Why  not  ask  some  of  the  children  if  she  has 
been  with  them  since  dinner." 

*'I  will  go  and  question  some  of  them.  Wait 
here  till  I  come  back,"  said  Daisy,  as  she  left 
the  room  ;  returning  again  in  less  than  ten  minutes. 

"  It's  just  as  I  supposed,"  said  she,  walking 
to  the  table,  and  looking  seriously  at  the  broken 
doll.  She  has  not  been  down  stairs  since  dinner, 
and  I  know  she  was  not  in  her  room,  because  I 
went  through  all  the  rooms  just  before  I  came 
in  here,  to  see  if  they  were  in  order,  and  she 
was  not  there,  then." 

"  Well,  then,  of  course  she  did  it,  and  was 
afraid  to  own  to  it,  which  is  not  at  all  surpris- 
ing, considering  the  way  she  has  been  brought 
up.  I  should  have  been  very  much  surprised  if 
she  had  told  the  truth  about  it.  I  hope  you  did 
not  expect  they  would  all  prove  to  be  ready- 
made  angels." 

"  Of  course  not,  grandpa.  I  don't  suppose  I 
should  have  minded  it  so  much,  if  it  had  not 
followed  so  soon    after   my    speech.     I    thought 


DORA'S  CURIOSITY.  »  33 

that  would  prove  forcible  enough  to  keep  them 
steady  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  at  least,"  replied 
Daisy,  with  an  attempt  to  smile. 

"  I  don't  believe  the  speech  was  ever  yet  made 
that  influenced  all  >its  hearers  for  a  day  ;  so  don't 
get  discouraged,  so  quick." 

"  Discouraged  !  Of  course  I  am  not  that,  only 
there  is  something  about  that  girl  that  I  cannot 
understand,  and  I  want  to  understand  her.  I 
want  to  understand  every  one  of  them,  so  I 
shall  knoNV  just   how  to  manage  them.". 

"You  can't  expect  to  understand  them  all  in 
a  day." 

"•  I  know  it ;  but  if  I  understand  her  as  well 
as  I  do  some  of  them,  I  should  know  what  to 
do  with  her  now,  which  I  don't ;  and  it  will  not 
do  to  let  this  af^iir  rest,  will  it?  " 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  Daisy,  I  don't  know  what 
will  be  the  best  thing  to  do,"  replied  Mr.  Milly, 
after  a  pause,  in  which,  in  his  perplexity,  he 
first  wiped  his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  then 
rubbed  it  all  over  his  head,  as  though  his  head 
Avas  bald,  which  it  was  not,  thereby  causing 
it  to  appear  as  though  a  skein  of  v/hite  silk  was 
tangled  up  all  over  it. 

"  Grandpa,  come    here !  "   suddenly   exclaimed 

'3 


34  '  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

Daisy,  who   had  gone  to    the  window,  and    was 
looking  out. 

"What  is  it?"  interrogated  the  old  man, 
trotting  up,  and  looking  out  over  her   shoulder. 

*'  Don't  you  see  ?  There  she  is,  now,  racing" 
across  the  yard,  and  screaming  louder  than  any 
of  them." 

"  Sure  enough  !  I  thought  I  heard  you  telling 
her  to  go  up  to  her  room  ?  "  Grandpa  looked 
at  Daisy,  and  Daisy  looked  at  grandpa.  The  old 
man  tried  hard  not  to  laugh,  but  he  did  not 
succeed.  Indeed  he  looked  so  very  comical  try- 
ing not  to  look  merry,  that  Daisy  could  not 
but  laugh  herself. 

"  Doesn't  that  prove,  now,  just  how  much 
that  girl  cares  for  what  I  say,"  said  she,  at  last, 
turning  again  to  the  window,  and  watching  Dora, 
who  was  now  running  towards  a  small  girl,  who 
was  seated  upon  the  grass,  watching  a  group  of 
children,  who  were  playing  nearer  the  school- 
house.  As  Dora  drew  near  the  small  girl,  she 
Dora,  suddenly  sprang  into  the  air,  passed  over 
her  head  without  touching  her,  and  came  down 
before  her,  much  to  the  small  girl's  astonishment, 
and  her  own  evident  amusement. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  her,  grandpa?"  inter- 


DORA'S  cuRiosirr.  35 

rogated  Daisy,  after  she  had  breathlessly  watched 
that  performance. 

"  I  should  say  a  little  oil  of  birch  wouldn't 
hurt  her  much,  but  I  believe  you  are  resolved 
not  to  iise  that  kind  of  medicine.  So  suppose 
you  pretend  not  to  see  her,  and  to-night  we'll 
talk  it  over." 

Daisy  was  in  the  dining-room  at  Hive  Hall, 
the  next  Monday  morning,  arranging  some  plants 
in  the  bay-window.  She  had  brought  several 
pots  of  fuchias  and  geraniums,  from  her  collection 
at  home,  for  the  window,  and  she  was  planting 
some  seeds  in  a  green  box,  when  Dora  opened 
the  door,  and  Daisy  called  her  to  her. 

"  Now  it's  coming  !  "  thought  Dora  to  herself. 
"  I  don't  care  what  it  is,  I'll  steal  it  if  I  can, 
but  I  rather  'spect  it'll  be  too  much  for  me." 

"  How  do  the  flowers  look  ? "  said  Daisy, 
noticing  her  eyes  rested  upon  them  with  evident 
curiosit3\ 

"  llan'some.     I  never  saw  any  like  um  before." 

"  Do  you  like  flowers  ?  " 

"  Yes.  There  used  to  be  lots  in  the  woods 
back  of  the  poor-house." 

"  Do  you  know,  Dora,  I  have  been  thinking 
this  seed  is  very  much  like  you,  in  some  respects," 


36  DAIS r  TR AVERS, 

continued  Daisy,  holding  up  a  little  brown  seed 
for  Dora  to  see. 

"  Like  me  ?  "  repeated  Dora,  looking  Daisy  in 
the  face  for  the  first  time  since  she  entered  the 
room. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  will  tell  you  why.  My  brother 
sent  me  this  seed  from  Africa,  a  great  country, 
hundreds  of  miles  from  here.  He  wrote  to  me 
that  the  plant  he  took  it  from  he  found  growing 
in  the  midst  of  a  dense  forest,  where  it  was  so 
crowded  and  overpowered  by  stronger,  and 
larger  plants,  that  it  could  scarcely  find  room 
enough  to  grow  at  all.  It  should  have  been  a 
handsome  bush,  with  many  flowers  all  over  it, 
whereas  only  two  or  three  little  branches  could 
struggle  up  to  the  light,  and  on  one  of  them 
was  a  flower,  on  another  this  little  seed,  which 
if  it  had  been  allowed  to  fall  there,  would  have 
made  even  a  worse  bush  than  the  other.  But 
it  was  taken  off  and  sent  here,  to  me ;  and  here 
it  will  have  all  the  room  it  wants  to  grow  in, 
all  the  sunshine  it  wants,  and  all  the  nourish- 
ment it  wants.  Now  don't  you  think  it  will  be 
a  very  queer,  ungrateful  seed,  if  it  doesn't  do 
the  very  best  it  can,  to  grow  up  into  a  strong, 
handsome  bush  that  will  bear  many  flowers.     It 


DORA'S  CURIOSITY.  37 

wonld  be  unnatural  to  suppose  that  it  won't  do 
so  well  here,  as  it  would  have  done  there,  wouldn't 
it?" 

"Yes;  but  why  is  it  like  me?" 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  Don't  you  think  your  case 
is  very  much  the  same  ?  Think  of  that  little 
plant,  then  think  of  yourself  at  the  poor-house, 
where  you  were  overpowered  by  coarse,  perhaps 
wicked,  men  and  women,  who  would  have 
crowded  you  down  so  you  would  have  grown 
up  very  bad  indeed.  But  now  you  are  here, 
where  very  much  more  will  be  done  for  you 
than  will  be  done  for  that  seed.  Won't  it  be 
strange  if  you  do  not  do  as  well  as  the  seed 
does?  Won't  it  be  strange  if  you  do  not  grow 
up  into  a  good  woman  ?  " 

"The  seed  may  never  come  up,  anyhow," said 
Dora,  who  had  never  heard  such  talk  before, 
and  did  not  look  as  if  she  liked  it  very  well. 

"  Very  true  ;  and  so  may  you  never  grow  up. 
You  may  die,  you  know,  as  well  as  the  seed ; 
and  you  wouldn't  want  to  die  without  ever  having 
tried  to  be  good,  would  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  die  right  off." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  You  may  die 
within  a  month.     You  may  die  to-day." 


38  DAISY  TRA  VERS. 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  any  longer.  I  guess 
I'll  go  out." 

"  You  may  go  out,  but  first  I  want  to  tell  you 
one  thing."  If  I  see  this  seed  coming  up  a  homely, 
scraggy,  ill-shaped  plant,  I  shall  not  take  much 
pleasure  in  caring  for  it.  But  if  I  see  it  come 
up  graceful,  and  handsome,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
tend  it  every  day.  So  it  is  with  you,  Dora.  I 
want  to  see  you  begin  handsomely,  and  you  can, 
by  confessing  that  you  broke  that  doll,  Saturday. 
Don't  be  afraid  of  being  punished  for  doing  it, 
for  you  will  not  be.  Now  I  will  leave  you ;  and 
remember,  as  soon  as  you  decide  that  you  will 
begin  handsomely,  come  to  me,  and  see  if  I  am 
not  very  glad  to  know  it,"  then  without  another 
word,  Daisy  planted  the  seed,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Gorry,  how  she  did  run  on ! "  exclaimed 
Dora,  drawing  a  long  breath  of  relief,  as  soon 
as  the  door  had  closed  after  her.  "  She  can  put 
it  stronger  than  crazy  Bet,  any  day.  An'  she 
never  said  a  word  about  my  stealin'  for  her.  I 
wonder  if  all  she  wants  of  me  is  to  be  good  ? 
That  would  be  harder'n  stealin' !  Couldn't  do  it 
anyhow.  I'm  a  born  nuisance,  everybody  always 
said  so,  an'  I  can't  help  it.  Crazy  Bet  said 
some    folks    were    born    poets,    an'    some    born 


DORA'S  CURTOSITr.  39 

painters,  an'  I  can't  think  of  all  the  ways  she 
said  people  were  born,  but  I  can  remember  that 
I  was  a  born  nuisance,  an'  she  said  I'd  ought  to 
be  thankful  for  it ;  anyway,  I  can't  help  it.  I 
wonder  why  they  don't  oall  her  Crazy  Daisy 
here.  I'm  sure  she's  as  crazy  as  Bet,  only  I 
hain't  seen  her  tear  round  yet  ;  but  I  guess  her 
turns  don't  come  so  often  as  Bet's  did.  She 
looked  all  down  to  the  heel,  just  the  way  crazy 
Bet  used  to  when  she  asked  me  to  steal  some 
tea  for  her.  I  wonder,  if  I  should  tell  her  I 
broke  the  doU,  it  would  brighten  her  up  like  the 
tea  used  to  brighten  up  Bet.  I've  a  good  mind 
to  try.  But  I  guess  I'd  better  see  how  the  seed 
comes  up  first,  or  else  she'd  get  mad.  If  the 
seed  comes  up  han'some,  then  I  must  come  up 
han'some ;  that  means  I  must  tell  her  I  broke 
the  doll.  Dear !  dear  !  it's  dreadful  hard  work 
getting  along  with  crazy  folks,  anyhow.  But  it 
is  ever  so  much  better  here,  than  it  was  there, 
because^  in  the  first  place,  if  she  gets  tearing,  I 
shan't  be  afraid  of  her,  'cause  she  ain't  big 
enough  to  hurt  anybody ;  then  there's  such  a  lot 
to  eat,  an'  such  spankin'  clothes  !  The  only  way 
I  could  get  along  with  crazy  Bet  was  to  agree 
to  everything  she  said.     That's  the  way  I'll  have 


40  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

to  do  with  crazy  Daisy,  or  whatever  her  name 
is.  If  she's  very  crazy,  an'  I  think  she  is,  now, 
she'll  watch  that  seed  like  a  cat  watching  a 
mouse,  an'  I'll  have  to  watch  it,  too,  so  if  it 
comes  up  han'som,  I  (^n  get  on  her  good  side, 
by  sayin'  I  broke  the  doll.  But  s'pose  it  don't 
come  up  ?  Then  she'll  say  it  died,  an'  she  might 
try  to  kill  me,  too,  'cause  she  thinks  I'm  just 
like  it ;  crazy  Bet  would.  Guess  I'll  go  out  an' 
see  'f  I  can't  hunt-  up  some  kind  of  seeds  to  stick 
in  with  that  one,  so  something  '11  come  up, 
she'll  never  know  the  difference." 

But  Dora  did  not  find  any.  As  the  days  past 
by,  she  began  to  show  considerable  anxiety  in 
regard  to  the  seed  Daisy  had  planted.  Instead 
of  leaving  the  dining-room  immediately  after 
every  meal,  as  the  other  children  did,  she  would 
walk  up  to  the  bay-window,  to  see  if  it  had  yet 
started  from  the  ground.  Her  evident  anxiety 
did  not  pass  unnoticed  by  Daisy,  who  began  to 
think  her  "  lecture "  might  have  done  some 
good  after  all;  and  she  was  quite  sure  of  it, 
when  two  little  green  leaves  made  their  appear- 
ance in  the  box  in  the  bay  window,  Dora  came 
to  her  and  said,  without  any  prevarication,  and 
suddenly  enough  to  astonish  Daisy  : 

"I  did  break  that  doll." 


DORA'S  CURIOSITY.  41 

"  I  knew  you  did,  at  first,  Dora,  but  I  am 
very  glad  you  have  at  last  found  courage 
enough  to  tell  me  so,"  replied  Daisy;  and  Dora, 
watching  her  face,  thought  it  did  light  up  even 
•  more  than  crazy  Bet's  used  to  when  she  received 
the  much-prized  tea. 

For  some  time  Daisy  talked  to  her  very  earn- 
estly and  kindly,  to  encourage  her  in  well- 
doing, then  hurried  home  to  tell  Grandfather 
Milly,  of  her  "  great  success."  If  she  could  have 
known  what  Dora's  thoughts  were  after  she  had 
left  her. 

"I  knew  it!"  said  that  individual  to  herself, 
as  soon  as  she  was  alone.  "  She's  worse'n  crazy 
Bet ;  but  land !    I  know  how  to    manage   her !  " 


CHAPTER    III 

"WHAT    CAN  BE   DONE    WITH   HEE  ? 
jORA?" 

*'  Yes,  mum." 

"Mrs.  Burns  has  given  me  a   very 
bad  report  of  you." 

"  That's  good  of  her.  I  thought  she  was  too 
stingy  to  give  anybody  any  thing." 

"  Mrs.  Burns  is  an  excellent  woman,  and  does 
her  duty  wonderfully  well.  I  expected  better  of 
you,  after  what  you  told  me  in  the  dining-room. 
It  seems  the  seed  has  the  most  gratitude,  after 
all.  It  has  come  up,  and  is  growing  nicely,  to 
pay  me  for  all  the  care  I've  taken  of  it ;  but 
everything  I  do  for  you  seems  to  'make  you 
worse.  Why  did  you  pound  poor  Kate  Wrenton, 
who  is  so  much  smaller  than  you  are,  so  unmer- 
cifuUy?" 

"  I  pounded  her  'cause  I  couldn't  help  it,  any 
more'n  the  seed  could  help  coming  up ;   but  I'd 
42 


WHAT  CAN  BE  DONE  WITH  HER  ?  43 

just  as  live  ask  her  pardon  as  not,  now  ;  bring 
her  here  an'  see  if  I  wouldn't." 

"  What  good  would  that  do,  now  ?  She  will 
be  sore  and  lame  for  a  week  at  least." 

"  It's  her  own  fault,  anyway ;  she  wouldn't 
stop  foolin'  when  I  told  her  to,  an'  she  got  me 
mad." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  have  a  very  bad  temper 
Dora." 

"  'Spect  I've  got  a  pretty  bad  one  ;  but  then 
crazy  Bet  used  to  say  that  a  knife  or  any  thing 
else  wasn't  any  good  'less'  it  had  a  temper." 

*'  I  don't  want  you  to  mention  crazy '  Bet's 
name  again  while  you  are  at  Hive  Hall !  Do 
you  understand  that?" 

"  Come,  now,  you  needn't  be  so  hard  on 
crazy  Bet,  'cause  you're  crazy  yourself,  you 
know." 

"  I  think  I  must  have  been  very  crazy, 
indeed,  when  I  took  such  an  ungrateful  girl  as 
you  are  to  bring  up,  hoping  to  make  a  good 
woman  out  of  her,"  and  Daisy,  who  could  hold 
back  her  tears  no  longer,  sat  down  and  began 
to  cry. 

"  Oh,  come,  I  wouldn't  do  that,"  said  Dora 
Went  worth,  in   dismay,  going   up   to  her.     "  I'll 


44  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

call  you  Aunt  Daisy,  if  you  want  me  to,  an' 
not  the  other  name  ;  an'  I  won't  tell  anybody  I 
found  it  out.  Nobody  knows  it  here  but  me, 
I'm  sure." 

"Found  what  out?  Knows  what?"  questioned 
Daisy,  looking  at  the  girl  before  her  in  bewil- 
derment. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,  if  you  don't  remember. 
Isn't  there  something  you  want  me  to  do, 
now  ?  " 

"  You  know  very  well,"  replied  Daisy,  "  that 
all  I  want  you  to  do,  is  tvO  try  to  be  a  good 
girl ;  and  you  will  not  do  that.  For  a  punish- 
ment you  must  remain  here  in  ray  study  till 
bed-time.  You  cannot  go  down  to  supper  with 
the  other  children,  but  will  have  bread  and 
water  here,"  and  Daisy  arose  to  leave  the  room, 
thoroughly  out  of 'patience  with  this  girl  who 
was  sure  to  disturb  the  whole  school,  some  way, 
every  day.  After  Daisy  left  the  study,  Dora 
stood  listening,  till  she  could  no  longer  hear  her 
receding  footsteps,  then  she  approached  the  door 
with  the  intention  of  going  out,  also  ;  but  she 
very  soon  discovered  that  she  was  securely 
locked  in. 

"  She  did  that  weU  I  "  said  she,  at  last,  after 


WHAT  CAN"  BE  DONE   WITH  HER  ?         45 

satisfjiug  herself  that  the  door  could  not  be 
opened.  "  Crazy  Bet  would  have  left  the  door 
open,  after  that  speech.  She  looked  almost, 
when  she  went  out,  as  if  she  wasn't  crazy  after 
all;  but  then  Bet  used  to  look  so,  too,  at  times. 
Any  way,  she  won't  catch  me  again,  in  a  hurry, 
as  slick  as  she  did  this  time.  Wonder  if  I 
couldn't  get  out  the  window.  Guess  not  —  it's 
a  leetle  too  high.  Never  mind,  I  haven't  seen 
all  there  is  to  be  seen  here  yet,"  so  saying, 
Dora  walked  up  to  Daisy's  writing  desk,  opened 
it,  and  became  very  much  interested  in  its  con- 
tents. After  satisfying  her  curiosity  there,  she 
curled  herself  up  in  the  easy  chair  for  a  nap, 
where  we  will  leave  her  for  a  while,  and  follow 
Daisy,  who,  as  soon  as  she  reached  home,  sought 
her  grandfather,  to  inform  him  of  what  had  hap- 
pened at  the  school,  and  ask  his  advice. 

"  What  ?  Dora  gave  a  little  girl  a  dreadful 
pounding  ?  Why,  I  thought  you  said  onl}-  the 
other  day  that  you  had  talked  her  into  trying 
to  be  good  ?  " 

*'  It  was  only  so  many  words  wasted.  I  wish 
you  would  come  up  to  the  Hall  and  talk  to  her. 
Perhaps  she  would  pay  more  attention  to  you 
than  she  does  to  me." 

"Not  likely." 


46  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  But  you  will  try,  won't  you  ?  She's  the 
strangest  girl  I  ever  saw.  She  seems  to  want 
to  do  all  she  can  to  please  me  while  I  am  with 
her,  but  just  as  soon  as  she's  out  of  my  sight 
she  forgets  all  her  promises,  and  it  seems  as 
though  she  couldn't  act  bad  enough." 

"  She  isn't  trying  for  one  of  the  prizes, 
then?" 

*'  No,  indeed.  I  don't  believe  a  doll  could  be 
bought  that  would  be  handsome  enough  to 
induce  her  to  try  to  win  it." 

"  If  she  doesn't  like  dolls,  why  not  ask  her 
what  she  would  like,  then  tell  her  she  can  have 
whatever  she  wants  if  she'll  work  for  it." 

"  I  might  try  that,  and  if  it  doesn't  succeed 
in  making  a  change  in  her,  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  what  I  shall  do  with  her." 

"  Then  keep  her  a  close   prisoner." 

"  I  thought  of  that.  She  is  locked  up  now, 
in  my  study." 

"  I'd  keep  her  there,  till  she  promises  to 
do  better.  She  mustn't  be  allowed  to  influence 
the  other  children." 

"  Until  she  promises  to  do  better  !  Oh,  grandpa, 
you  do  not  know  her  yet.  If  I  should  ask  her 
to  promise  to  do  better,  she  would,  without  any 


WHAT  CAN  BE  DONE   WITH  HER  ?         47 

hesitation,  whatever ;  and  in  less  than  half  an 
hour  I  would  hear  that  she  had  done  some- 
thing dreadful,  again.  She  is  a  thoroughly  bad 
girl.  Lying  seems  to  come  natural  to  her,  and 
I'm  sure  if  she  liked  the  looks  of  any  thing,  she 
would  not  hesitate  to  steal  it.  Making  allow- 
ance for  the  way  she  was  brought  up,  it  seems 
as  though  she  might  show  a  httle  gratitude, 
when  she  is  treated  well." 

"  Well,  well,  Daisy,  don't  get  discouraged 
because  you've  got  one  exceedingly  black  sheep 
in  your  flock.  She  may  come  out  all  right  in 
the  end,  if  we  can  find  out  how  to  manage 
her." 

"  Are  you  coming  up  to  the  Hall  this  after- 
noon, grandpa?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  I'll  step  in  and  take  a  look  at 
your  prisoner." 

"  I  wish  you  would,  and  talk  to  her,  too.  I've 
used  all  my  eloquence  on    her    to    no   purpose." 

"  I'll  go  up  with  you,  and  hear  what  she  says 
about  something  else  for  a  prize." 

"  Why  not  come  now,  and  stop  in  the  school- 
room a  while  to  see  how  the  other  scholars  pros- 
per?" 

This  Mr.  Milly  agreed  to    do,  and    they    were 


48  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

soon  in  the  school-room  at  Hive  Hall,  where 
Daisy's  charity  scholars  were  all  assembled  but 
one. 

Daisy  could  not  help  thinking  that  her  school, 
so  far,  was  a  success,  notwithstanding  Dora,  as 
she  looked  upon  the  children  who  had  improved 
wonderfully  in  one  short  month.  Grandfather 
Milly  thought  so,  too,  and  had  a  smile  for  every 
child  that  looked  up  at  him,  as  he  sat  in  the 
chair  on  the  platform,  listening  to  a  class  of 
small  scholars,  who  were  making  a  dreadful  piece 
of  work  of  their  spelling  lesson. 

"  I  will  take  the  boy  and  girl,  who  have  had  the 
best  lessons  to-day,  to  ride  in  the  pony-phseton, 
and  the  boy  shall  drive  the  ponies,"  said  Daisy, 
just  before  leaving  the  school-room.  This  she 
always  tried  to  do  pleasant  days,  and  found  it 
worked  wonderfully  well ;  for  very  proud,  indeed, 
were  the  boy  and  girl  who  had  earned  the  right 
to  step  into  the  stylish  little  phaeton,  when  it 
stopped  at  Hive  Hall  purposely  for  them ;  and 
didn't  they  know  just  how  the  other  children 
envied  them,  as  they  watched   them   ride   awa3^ 

Grandpa  Milly,  and  Daisy,  after  leaving  the 
school-room,  entered  the  study,  and  saw  Dora, 
curled  up  in  an  easy  chair,  apparently  sound 
asleep. 


WHAT  CAN  BE  DONE   WITH  HER  ?         49 

*'  She  is  asleep,"  said  Daisy,  bending  over  her. 
"  She  isn't  a  bad-looking  girl,  is  she ;  what  a 
pity  she  will  not  behave  as  well  as  she  looks. 
Would  you  wake  her  up?"  But  Mr.  Milly's 
opinion  about  it  was  not  necessary,  for,  at  that 
moment  Dora  became  wide  awake  so  suddenly, 
that  Daisy  could  not  help  wondering  if  she  had 
been  asleep,  or  had  only  been  feigning  sleep. 
There  was  something  in  her  eyes,  as  they 
searched  Daisy's  that  the  latter  could  not  under- 
stand ;  a  puzzled,  questioning  look,  that  must  have 
been  returned  by  one  equally  puzzled  and  question- 
ing, but  no  chance  for  an  explanation  followed, 
as  at  that  moment  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door, 
and  opening  it  a  very  small  boy  wanted  to  know 
if  Daisy  would  return  to  the  school-room,  as 
Mrs.  Burns  wanted  to  ask  her  advice  about 
something  she  had  forgotten  to  mention  when 
she  was  there. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,"  said  she  to  grand- 
father Milly,  as  she  turned  to  go,  leaving  the 
old  man  alone  with  Dora.  For  some  minutes 
they  sat  looking  into  each  other's  faces,  without 
speaking  a  word.  Grandfather  Milly  was  the 
first  to  break  the  silence,  by  saying,  sarcastically ; 

"  You're  a  pretty  girl,  now  don't  you  think 
you  are?  "  4 


50  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

"  She  just  said  so,  didn't  she  ?  an'  I  guess 
she'd  ought  to  know.  Who  are  you,  any  way  ? 
One  of  the  overseers  of  the  poor,  I  reckon." 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  might  call  myself  that," 
replied  Mr.  Milly,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Thought  so.  She  calls  you  gran'father  ;  you 
are  not  her  gran'father,  are  you  ?  " 

•'  Not  her  own  grandfather,  but —  " 

"She  thinks  you  are,  eh?" 

"She  thinks  I  make  her  a  very  good  one." 

*'Does  she  ever  git  into  a  tantrum?" 

"A  what?" 

"  Does  she  ever  have  a  turn,  or  tantrum,  or 
whatever  you  call  it." 

"  Never,  if  by  that  you  mean  to  ask  if  she 
has  a  temper.  She  is  always  just  as  good  and 
amiable  as  you  have  always  seen  her.  Is  it  pos- 
sible you  do  not  understand  her?  " 

"i^^'uess,  Mr.  Overseer,  I  understand  her  just 
a  IceUe  Jif.better'n  you  do,  if  it  comes  to  that," 
replied  Dora,  sitting  back  in  her  chair,  with  a 
satisfied  air,  as  though  she  had  at  last  settled 
some  question  to  her  satisfaction. 

"  Come  now,  tell  me  what  you  think  of  her  ?  " 
questioned  the  old  man,  both  amused  and  curious. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  me,  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  much." 


WHAT  CAN  BE  DONE  WITH  HER  ?         51 

"  Well,  I  won't,  then.  I've  seen  overseers 
before.  If  she  never  has  tantrums,  it's  'cause 
you  don't  know  what  I  do.  Soou's  you  find 
that  out,  she'll  have  um  fast  enough,  I  bet. 
Guess  I  won't  give  you  a  chance  to  spit  your 
spite  on  her,  every  time  you  get  mad.  While 
Dora  was  delivering  this  speech,  grandfather 
Milly  sat  looking  at  her  in  open-mouthed  aston- 
ishment ;  then,  with  an  exclamation  he  could 
not  suppress,  he  arose  to  his  feet,  just  as  Daisy 
entered  the  room. 

"  What's  the  matter,  grandfather  ?  "    said  she. 

'"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  a  minute,"  he  replied, 
as  he  led  her  across  the  room,  so  that  Dora 
might  not  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Daisy,  looking  question- 
ingly  into  his  face. 

"  I've  found  out  what's  the  trouble  with  that 
gu-1." 

"  What  is  ?  " 

"  She's  crazy !     Mad  as  a  March  hare  !  " 

"  Nonsense! " 

"  I  believe  it.     If  you  could   have   heard   her 
talk  just  now,  you'd  have  said  so  yourself." 
•  "  As    though    I   haven't   talked   to    her   every 
day,  since  she's  been  here,  and  I  never  s^w  any 


52  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

signs  of  craziness,  unless  a  disposition  to  be  bad 
may  be  called  that.  I'm  going  to  ask  her,  now, 
if  she  wouldn't  rather  have  something  else  for  a 
prize." 

*'  Let  me  ask  her." 

"  Very  well,  you  can  if  you  want  to." 

"  I've  been  thinking,"  continued  Mr.  Milly, 
turning  to  Dora,  "  that  perhaps  the  reason  why 
you  are  not  trying  for  a  prize,  with  the  other 
children,  may  be  because  you  don't  care  for  doUs, 
even  if  they  are  handsome.  What  would  you 
like  better  !  "     - 

"  Why,  I  should  rather  have  a  hand-organ,  if 
I  was  to  have  any  thing." 

"  A  what  ?  " 

"A  hand-organ.  A  real  one,  with  a  handle, 
such  as  I  seen  a  man  turning  once." 

Grandfather  Milly  looked  at  Daisy,  whose 
eyes  told  him  to  say  she  might  have  one,  if  she 
could  earn  it. 

"Very  well,  then,  you  shall  have  one  if  you 
will  be  a  reasonably  good  girl  for  two  months. 
On  the  very  day  the  other  girls  receive  their 
dolls,  you  shall  have  a  hand-organ  if  you  deserve 
it." 

"Could  I  get  one  as  easy  as  that?" 

"  Yes." 


WHAT  CAN  BE  DONE  WITH  HER  >         53 

"  Land !  Then  I  don't  want  one.  Like  as 
not  I'd  get  tired  of  turning  the  old  thing  the 
first  day." 

"  Then  3^ou  won't  try  for  any  prize  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  want  to  try  for  any  prize  for  ? 
I'm  all  right.  Never  was  so  comf'table  in  my 
life,"  and  Dora,  unconscious  of  grandfather's 
suspicions,  looked  first  at  her  clean  hands,  then 
at  her  neat,  well-fitting  dress,  which  she 
smoothed  out  with  evident  satisfaction. 

"  No,  you're  not  right.  You  are  all  wrong, 
Dora,"  said  Daisy,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 
"I  was  in  hopes  you  would  try  for  something. 
I  am  very  sorry  to  see  you  so  blind  to  what  is 
for  your  own  good." 

*'  Did  you  want  me  to  try  for  a  hand- 
organ  ?  " 

*'  Of  course  I  did." 

"  Then  I'll  try,  for  you,  truly,  'cause  I  like 
you,  better'n  ever  I  liked  Crazy  Bet." 

"  Do  you  really  like  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  and  there  was  no  mistaking  the 
truth  of  what  she  said  then. 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  th^  because  if  you  do 
really  like  me  you  will  surely  try  to  please  me, 
and  earn  a  prize,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Jus'  see  'f  I  don't." 


f-4  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

"I  cannot  put  much  faith  in  your  promises. 
You  said  you  would  try  to  be  good  before." 

"  An'  I  did  try." 

"  But  if  you  do  not  try  harder,  you  cannot 
have  the  hand-organ,  and  will  have  to  be  a 
prisoner  in  this  room  every  day,  until  you  do 
try  ;  how  would  you  like   that  ?" 

"  Why,  that  would  be  fun,  if  you'd  just  let 
me  keep  the  key.     Let's   take  it — won't  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  But  I  hope  I  shall  not  have 
to  use  it  long  against  you." 

"  You  might  lock  me  in  some  day,  an'  forget 
all  about  me,  'n  I'd  starve  to  death,  Uke  's 
not." 

"  I  shall  not  forget  you,  but  it  will  be  better 
for  you  if  you  decide  not  to  be  locked  in."  At 
those  words  Dora  arose  and  crossed  the  room, 
then  beckoned  to  Mr.  Milly  to  come  to  her. 

'*  'Tisn't  going  to  do,"  said  she  to  him  in  a 
loAV  tone,  that  Daisy  might  not  hear.  •  "  Tisn't 
going  to  do  to  let  her  lock  me  up  in  here.  I 
could  get  the  key  away  from  her,  easy  enpugh, 
but  I  might  hurt  her,  an'  I  don't  want  to  do 
that.  Couldn't  you  jnanage  to  get  it  away  from 
her,  somehow,  an'  let  me  out  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  let  you  out,  but  it 


WHAT  CAN  BE  DONE   WITH  HER  ?         55 

must  be  as  she  says  ;  when  you  decide  to  behave 
yourself,  you  are  free." 

"  How  'm  I  going  to  try  for  the  hand-organ, 
unless  I'm  out?  " 

"  You  can  begin  to  try  for  that  to-morrow, 
but  the  first  time  you  break  any  of  the  rules, 
you  will  be  locked  in  here  again,  to  stay  for  a 
long  time."  With  that  Mr.  Milly  joined  Daisy, 
and  they  left  the  room  together,  locking  the 
door  after  them. 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  questioned  Daisy,  while 
descending  the  stairs. 

"  She  wanted  me  to  get  the  key  away  from 
you,  and  let  her  out.  She  also  said  she  could 
get  it  away  from  you  herself,  but  was  afraid  of 
hurting  you.  She's  a  queer  girl,  any  way.  One 
minute  I  think  she's  crazy,  and  the  next  I  think 
she's  altogether  too  smart  for  us.  One  thing  is 
certain,  it  will  never  do  to  let  her  be  with  the 
other  children  unless  she  improves." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHEREY-STONES,  AND  MRS.  HODGB'S  METHOD. 

AKE  up.  Anne  Porter !  wake  up ! 
What  a  sleepy-head  you  are,  any 
way  ! " 

"Who  is  it?     What's  the  matter  ?  " 
*'  Get   up  an'   dress  yourself,  an'    I'll  tell  you 
while  you're  dressing." 

"  W4io  says  I'm  to  get  up  ?  " 
"  I  do." 

"  Guess  I  won't  get  up  for  you,  Dora  Went- 
worth,  an'  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Burns  in  the  morning 
how  you  come  into  my  room  nights  and  wake 
me"  up." 

"  Stupid !  I  suppose  I  must  tell  you  first,  an' 
waste  time,  an'  I  thought  you  the  smartest  girl 
in  the  school,  too,  that's  why  I  came  to  you.  I 
found  out  something  this  morning  that's  worth 
knowino:.  In  that  big  orchard  that's  next  to  our 
yard,  there's  the  biggest  cherry-tree  I  ever  saw, 
56 


CHERR  r-STONES.  57 

an'  it's  just  loaded  down  with  great  white-heart 
cherries.  I  couldn't  get  at  one,  'cause  there  was 
a  man  watching  me,  as  though  he  couldn't  think 
what  I  was  there  for,  any  how.  That's  the 
beauty  of  being  a  girl !  If  I'd  been  a  boy  he'd 
have  known  what  I  was  there  for,  fast  enough, 
and  set  the  dog  on  me.  As  it  was,  he  only 
looked.  So  I  thought  I'd  go  back  an'  wait  till 
night,  an'  get  all  I  wanted.  I'm  goin'  now,  an' 
you  can  go  with  me,  if  you  want  to." 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  was  Anne's  decided  reply, 
as  she  nestled  back  under  the  bed-clothes. 
"Why  not?" 

"  Because,  it  would  not  be  right." 
"  Perhaps    you   think    if   you    got  found    out 
you'd  lose  the  prize,"  sarcastically. 
"  Of  course  I  should." 

**  Well,  you'll  lose  it,  any  way,  I  can  tell  you 
that ;  an'  you'd  ought  to  lose  it  if  you  think  an 
old  doll  is  better'n  one's  fill  of  white-heart 
cherries.  But  you  won't  get  found  out.  I  know 
how  to  open  the  front  door  without  makin'  a 
bit  of  noise.  Come,  hurry  up,  an'  dress,  can't 
you  ?  "  and  Dora  took  hold  of  Anne's  shoulder 
with  the  intention  of  helping  her  out  of  l>ed. 
"  If  you   don't  go  out   of  my  room,  Dora,  I'll 


58  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

scream,  and  wake  up  everybody  in  the  house ; 
and  you  must  promise  you'll  not  go  out  to-night 
too,  or  I'll  tell,  as  it  is  !  " 

"  I  always  thought  you  was  a  mean  old  pig  — 
now  I'm  sure  of  it.  Of  course  I  can't  go  unless 
you  go,  too.  You  see  I  was  kinder  'fraid  to  go 
alone,  on  account  of  ghosts  and  goblins ;  but  I 
knew  if  I  took  such  a  homely  piece  as  you  are, 
along,  they'd  be  glad  enough  to  keep  out  of 
our  way. 

"  You  are  the  very  worst  girl  at  Hive  Hall  I 
Everybody  knows  that." 

"  An'  you're  the  worst  looldn'  one.  I  can  be 
as  good  as  you  any  day  I  want  to  ;  but  I'd  like 
to  see  you  make  yourself  good-lookin'.  You 
can  go  to  sleep  now,  and  dream  of  your  prize  ; 
I  won't  trouble  you  again."  With  that  Dora 
returned  to  her  own  room,  where  she  seated 
herself  at  the  window,  and  looked  out  into  the 
bright  moonlight,  towards  the  orchard  in  which 
were  the  coveted  'cherries.  Once  she  glanced 
upwards  into  the  starry  sky,  and  wondered  if 
what  she  had  heard  so  many  times  lately  about 
God,  was  true.  If  he  really  did  make  her,  and 
make  all  things,  or  was  it  all  talk.  Wouldn't 
this   beautiful    night  be   just   the  same    without 


CHERR  r-S  TONES.  59 

Him  ?  Who  is  He  ?  What  is  she  herself  ?  were 
some  of  the  questions  she  would  have  liked  to 
have  had  answered  to  her  satisfaction,  just  then, 
while  looking  up  into  the  starry  sky;  but  the 
next  moment  all  such  thoughts  vanished  as  her 
gaze  returned  to  the  orchard. 

"  Just  wait  till  she  goes  to  sleep,  an'  see  'f  I 
don't  have  some  !  "  said  she  to  herself.  "  I  won't 
be  piggish,  neither,  see  'f  I  am.  I'll  give  her  a 
part  of*  all  I  get ;  yes,  she  shall  have  aU  the 
stones,"  and  Dora  could  be  seen  smiling  to  her- 
self in  the  moonlight.  She's  gone  to  sleep,  again, 
by  this  time,"  continued  she,  after  a  pause. 
"  Guess  I'll  try  now,  an'  see  'f  I  can't  get  out 
without  waking  up  the  whole  house,  an'  every- 
body in  it,"  so  saying  she  stole  softly  out  into 
the  long  passage,  then  down  the  stairs,  and 
noiselessly  slid  back  the  bolt  that  fastened  the 
front  door.  She  had  no  sooner  closed  the  door 
softly  behind  her,  when  a  white-robed  figure 
descended  the  stairs,  after  her,  and  going  to  the 
door,  shot  the  bolt  in  its  place  securely  locking 
her  out. 

"There!"  said  Anne  to  herself  —  for  it  was 
she  —  as  she  returned  to  her  room.  "  She'll 
have    all  night   to    eat   cherries   in   now,  an'    I 


60  DAISr  TRA  VERS. 

hope  she'll  get  enough  of  them.  The  hateful 
thing  to  call  me  homely  !  I  wonder  if  she  calls 
herself  handsome,  with  those  old  goggle  eyes  of 
hers.  Won't  she  be  mad  when  she  finds  she's 
locked  out !  Now  I  can  go  to  sleep  with  some 
comfort,"  and  Anne  returned  to  her  bed  in  a 
much  better  frame  of  mind  than  she  had  been 
in  when  she  left  it. 

In  the  meantime  Dora  had  secured  a  seat  in 
the  cherry  tree,  where  all  the  fruit  she  could 
wish  for  was  within  her  reach  ;  and  after  eating 
all  she  wanted,  she  filled  her  hat  full  to  take 
home  to  enjoy  in  her  own  room.  She  had  been 
a  little  frightened  at  first,  as  it  was  the  first 
time  she  had  ever  undertaken  such  an  enterprise 
in  the  night ;  but  now,  as  she  returned,  all  fear 
had  left  her,  and  she  walked  along  leisurely, 
holding  her  hat  full  of  cherries  before  her. 

Climbing  the  high  wall,  and  saving  her  cher- 
ries, was  a  difficult  matter,  but  she  accomplished 
the  feat  at  last,  and  soon  after  was  softly 
liftinof  the  latch  to  the  front  door  of  Hive  Hall. 

"  How  the  door  sticks  !  "  said  she  to  herself, 
after  spending  some  strength  upon  it,  to  no 
purpose.  "  I  bet  it'll  make  a  noise  when  I  open 
it.     Here  goes,  anyhow,"  and  Dora,  after  placing 


CHERRY-STONES.  61 

her  hat  full  of  cherries  upon  the  stone  step, 
endeavored,  with  all  her  strength,  to  force  open 
the  door.  "  It's  locked,  as  true  as  the  world ! 
was  her  next  low  exclamation,  when  her  effort 
proved  unsuccessful.  "  Anne  Porter  did  that, 
fast  enough,"  continued  she,  seating  herself  upon 
the  step,  and  commencing  to  eat  cherries,  after 
a  careful  glance  around  in  the  moonlight.  Well, 
she's  smarter'n  I  thought  she  was,  any  way.  I'd 
ought  to  save  some  cherries  for  her,  that's  a 
fact,  to  pay  her  for  not  bein'  afraid  to  go  down 
stairs  in  the  dark.  Wait  till  I  get  in,  an'  I'll 
reward  her,  see  'f  I  don't."  With  that,  Dora 
arose  to  her  feet,  and  taking  up  a  small  stone, 
began  to  knock  upon  the  door  with  it. 

Presently  a  light  was  visible  in  the  house- 
keeper's sleeping-room,  then  a  window  was  opened 
and  "  Who's  there  ?  "  came  down  to  Dora,  who 
was  concealed  from  view  by  the  porch.  "  Who's 
there,  I  say  ! "  was  repeated  in  a  shrill  voice, 
but  Dora  remained  perfectly  quiet.  "  I  think  I 
must  have  been  di'eaming,"  were  the  next  words 
heard,  then  the  window  was  closed. 

Dora  remained  perfectly  quiet,  for  perhaps 
five  minutes,  then  she  began  to  tap  softly  upon 
the  door  again,  with  the  stone.     A  few  minutes 


62  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

later  she  heard  steps  descending  the  stairs,  then 
she  quickly  picked  up  her  hat,  and  crouched 
close  to  the  house,  in  the  shadow  of  the  porch. 

Presently  the  door  was  cautiously  opened.  "  I 
don't  understand  it ;  I'm  sure  I  heard  somebody 
knock,"  said  the  house-keeper,  after  looking  out, 
and  perceiving  no  one  ;  then  she  stepped  softly 
to  the  end  of  the  house,  and  peered  around  the 
corner  in  the  direction  of  an  old  shed  that  looked, 
in  the  moonlight  like  a  lurking-place  for  robbers, 
leaving  the  door  open  that  she  might  retrace 
her  steps,  at  a  moment's  notice. 

She  had  no  sooner  reached  the  end  of  the 
house,  than  Dora  darted  in  the  door,  up  the 
stairs,  and  entered  her  own  room,  where  she 
pushed  the  cherries  under  the  bed,  then  jumped 
into  it,  all  dressed  as  she  was.  Fortunately  for 
her,  her  sleeping  companion  was  a  very  small 
girl,  and  a  sound  sleeper. 

She  listened  and  heard  the  house-keeper  return. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  then  she  arose, 
and  moved  towards  Anne's  room.  Anne  proved 
to  be  sound  asleep. 

"  Land  ! "  exclaimed  Dora  under  her  breath, 
as  she  bent  over  to  look  at  her.  "  She  knew 
I'd  be  back  to  treat  her,  that's  why  she  went 
to  sleep  with  her  mouth  open." 


CHERR  r-S  TONES.  63 

"  Marrow-bones,  cheny-stones,  bundleumjig  !  " 
continued  she,  aloud,  as  she  dropped  a  handful 
of  cherry-stones  into  Anne's  open  mouth,  then 
hurried  back  to  her  own  room. 

Poor  Anne  was  awake  in  a  minute,  and, 
sitting  up  in  bed,  began  to  si)it,  and  cough  out 
the  stones,  frantically. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  questioned  her  room- 
mate,* awaking  for  the  first  time  that  night,  and 
looking  at  her  companion  in  alarm. 

"I  —  don't  know  —  I'm  —  sick.  Call  Mrs. 
Burns  —  or  somebody." 

"  What's  that  you're  spitting  out  ?  " 

"  My  teeth,  I  guess.  No,  it  can't  be,  'cause 
I  can  feel — them  all  in.  It  must  bo  the  croup. 
Peoj)le  ajways — choke,  when  they  have  the 
croup.  I'm  choking — to  death!  Can^t  j-ou  call 
iomehody  I" 

Lucy  Stone,  such  was  her  name,  rolled  out  of 
bed.  It  was  much  easier  for  her  to  roll  out 
than -to  step  out,  she  was  so  fat  and  round.  As 
she  passed  the  window,  on  her  way  to  the 
teacher's  room,  her  face  could  be  very  plainly 
seen  in  the  moonlight.  She  was  not  a  homely 
girl,  neither  was  she  a  handsome  one.  Her  nose 
was   as  round   as  a  nose    could  possibly  be,  and 


64  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

her  moutli  was  nothing  but  a  little,  round  hole. 
Perhaps  her  eyes  were  rounder  than  usual, 
to-night,  as  she  thought  of  going  the  whole 
length'  of  the  long  passage  in  the  dark,  to  the 
teacher's  room  frightened  her  a  little. 

Lucy  was  not  at  all  smart,  and  would  never 
be  able  to  earn  the  prize  for  perfect  lessons ; 
and,  though  there  was  not  a  better  dispositioned 
girl  in  the  whole  school,  every  one  knew  she 
would  not  take  the  prize  for  good  behavior,  as 
that  included  a  neat,  and  orderly  appearance,  in 
regard  to  dress,  and  Lucy's  toilet  was  always 
far  from  perfect.  It  was  too  bad  it  should  be 
so,  you  will  say,  when  you  know  that  not  one 
of  the  girls  wanted  to  possess  one  of  those 
beautiful  dolls  half  so  much  as  Lucy  did. 

She  soon  succeeded  in  arousing  Mrs.  Burns, 
and  that  motherly  woman  was  presently  bending 
over  Anne,  with  a  lamp  in  her  hand. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Anne?  Lucy  tells  me 
you  are  sick,"  said  she. 

"  I  think  it's  the  croup,"  replied  Anna  in  a 
faint  voice,  lying  back  on  the  pillow. 

"  Nonsense.  I  might  believe  that  of  Lucy, 
but  you  are  altogether  too  thin,  to  be  troubled 
with  that  disease." 


CHERR  r-S  TONES.  65 

"  I  nearly  choked  to  death,  aii'  lots  of  hard 
stuff  come  out  of  my  mouth." 

"Hard  stuff?" 

«  Yes." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"  It  must  be  all  over  the  floor." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  but  cherry-stones."  said 
Mrs.  Burns,  stooping  down,  and  flashing  the 
light  all  around. 

"  Cherry-stones  ?  "  repeated  Anne,  sitting  up 
quickly,  and  looking  down  at  the  floor. 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  get  so  many 
cherries  ?  "  questioned  Mrs.  Burns,  looking 
severely  at  her. 

"I  didn't -get  any,"  replied  Anne,  l^ang- down 
again,  as  the  truth  flashed  across  her  mind. 
"  It's  that  Dora  Wentworth." 

"  Dora  Wentworth,  again  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  came  in  here  a  long  time  ago,  an' 
wanted  me  to  get  up,  an'  go  after  cherries,  in 
the  big  orchard,  near  here.  I  said  I  wouldn't 
go,  an'  made  her  promise  she  wouldn't,  but  I 
s'pose  slie  did  go,  after  all,  an'  when  she  came 
back,  she  must  have  come  in  here,  an'  put  those 
stones  in  my  mouth,  when  I  was  asleep." 

Anne  did  not  think   it  was    necessary    to    say 

5 


QQ  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

anything  about  herself  getting  up  and  locking 
her  out. 

Mrs.  Burus  looked  troubled,  after  hearing  her 
explanation,  and  she  left  the  room  without  a 
word. 

"  Did  she  really  go  after  cherries,  all  alone  in 
the  dark?  "  questioned  Lucy,  her  eyes  very  round, 
indeed,  after  Mrs.  Burns  went  out. 

"  Dark  1 "  repeated  Anne,  sarcastically.  "  I 
don't  think  its  very  dark  out,  do  you?" 

'•  But  it's  night,  you  know." 

"  What  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  dared  to  do  it." 

"  What  a  coward  you  are,  anyway,  Lucy," 
remarked  Anne,  all  the  while  thinking  how  she 
felt  when  she  went  down  stairs  to  lock  the  door. 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  with  her,  when  she  asked 
you,  if  you  wasn't  afraid  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I'd  steal  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  the  cherries  don't  belong  to  us." 

"  You  forget  everything  you'd  ought  to  remem- 
ber," scornfully. 

"  I  know  I  do  ;  if  I  didn't  I'd  stand  a  chance 
of  getting  one  of  those  beautiful  dolls.  Oh, 
dear !  I  wish  I  could  get  one." 

"  It  isn't  at  all  likely  you  will ;  you  miss,  every 


CHERRT-STONES.        •:  67 

day,  you  know,  and  you  are  never  half  fit  to  be 
seen.  I'm  trying  for  both  prizes.  I  don't  expect 
to  get  them  both,  but  if  I  should,  I'd  let  you 
take  one  of  the  dolls,  once  in  a  while ;  an'  we 
could  play  visiting  with  them,  then." 

"  Oh,  would  you  ?  That  would  be  splendid. 
I  hype  you  will  get  both  prizes.  Wouldn't  it  be 
nice  to  have  them  both  here,  in  our  room  ?  " 

"  You  could  help  me  to  get  them,  if  you  want 
to." 

"  How  ?  " 

"  You  know  .it's  my  turn,  every  other  day  to 
make  our  bed,  and  sweep  an'  dust  the  room. 
If  you'd  do  it  every  day,  I'd  have  all  that  time 
extra  to  study,  an'  fix  myself  in." 

"  Of  course  I'll  do  it.  I  like  to  make  the  bed, 
and  dust  and  sweep,  and  am  always  glad  when 
my  day  to  do  it  comes  round.  You  shall  have 
all  the  time  to  study,  and  fix  up  in,  and  I  will 
help  you  every  way  I  can,  if  you'll  only  tell  me 
just  what  you  want  me  to  do." 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  curl  hair  ?  " 

"  Dear  me  !  no  ;  why  ?  " 

"Because  I  wanted  you  to  curl  mine." 

"  Your  hair  doesn't  curl,  does  it  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  didn't  know  but  you  could  make 
it." 


gg  DAIS  r  TEA  VERS. 

"Perhaps  I  can;  I'll  try,  anyway." 
"  If  you  do  I'll  look  ever  so  mucli  better  and 
stand  a  better  chance  of  getting  a  prize  ;  because 
if  I  go  down  every  morning,  looking  real  nice, 
and  with  my  hair  curled,  Mrs.  Burns  will  give 
me  a  credit  for  it,  I  know."  With  that,  Anne 
turned  over  and  went  to  sleep,  while  Lucy  lay 
awake  for  some  time,  wondering  if  it  would  be 
possible  for  her  companion  to  take  both  the 
prizes,  and  hoping  it   would  be. 

The  next  morning  Anne  was  awakened  by 
feeling  the  fresh  air  from  the  open  window  blow- 
ing upon  her  face,  and  hearing  a  noise  as  if 
some  one  was  sweeping  the  carpet,  vigorously. 
Opening  her  eyes  she  beheld  Lucy  Stone,  in  her 
night-dress,  and  looking  very  warm,  at  that, 
sweeping  the  room. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing,  so  early  ?  " 
said  Anne,  fretfully. 

"  It  isn't  very  early,  an'  I  thought  if  I  was  to 
try  to  curl  your  hair  I'd  better  get  this  work 
out  of  the  way." 

"Has  the  first  bell  rung  yet?" 
"No,  but  I  expect  to  hear  it,  every  minute." 
"  I  never  was  so  sleepy  in  my  life :  but  I  sup- 
pose I  may  as  well  get  up,  now.     I  don't  believe 


CHERR  r-S  TONES.  69 

we'll  see  Dora  Wentwortli  in  the  school -room 
to-day,"  continued  Anne,  looking  at  the  cherry- 
stones on  the  carpet,  and  yawning  fearfully. 

"  I  wonder  what  they'll  do  to  her." 

"  Lock  her  up,  very  likely,  as  they  did  yes- 
terday, an'  feed  her  on  bread  an'  water  till  she 
forgets  how  cherries  taste.  It'll  serve  her  right, 
too.  She's  the  hatefnlest  girl  I  ever  set  eyes 
on." 

"  I  like  her.     She  knows  a  lot." 

**  Oh,   does  she !  contemptuously." 

"  I  mean  compared  to  what  I  know.  An' 
truly,  I  think  she  might  take  a  prize,  if  she 
wanted  to,  'cause  she  can  remember  her  lessons 
so  easy,  when  she  wants  to.  The  other  day 
Emma  Goodwin  an'  I  were  studying  together, 
an'  she  listened  to  us  a  little  while.  She  never 
looked  at  her  own  book,  once,  I  know ;  an' 
when  she  came  to  recite,  she  had  her  lesson 
better'n  either  of  us." 

"  Which  isn't  saying  much ;  you  two  are  the 
worst  scholars  in  school." 

"  She  Avas  always  real  good  to  me,  too,"  con- 
tinued Lucy,  after  a  pause,  in  which  she  swept 
away,  aimlessly.  Lots  of  times  I  don't  know 
that  my  dress  isn't  buttoned  up  straight  behind, 


70  DAISr  TRA  VERS . 

until  she  comes  up  to  me  an'  says,  '  Roily,  you 
don't  like  black  marks  an'  you're  good  for  one. 
Stan'  still  Avliile  I  fix  you.'  Then  she'll  button 
it  up  right  for  me.  That's  .more'n  any  other 
girl  ever  did  for  me,  anyway,"  continued  Lucy, 
perceiving  that  Anne  was  inclined  to  laugh. 

"  There's  the  first  bell,  now  !  "  exclaimed  Anne, 
springing  from  bed.  "Hurry  up,  an'  finish 
sweepin',  an'  make  the  bed.  By  that  time  I'll 
be  ready  for  you  to  curl  my  hair.  It's  your 
morning  to  fix  the  room,  anyway,  this  morning, 
isn't  it  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Never  mind  if  it  isn't  done  very  well,  then, 
only  hurry." 

"  I'm  hurrying  as  fast  as  I  can." 
"  That's  right."    I'll  be  ready  for  you,  as  soon 
as  you  are  for  me." 

The  first  bell  woke  up  Dora,  who  sprang  our 
of  bed,  and  began  to  dress,  immediately.  "  If  I 
thought,"  said  she  to  herself,  "they'd  find  out 
about  the  cherries  I  wouldn't  make  the  bed. 
Oh,  come  to  think  of  it,  'tisn't  my  morning  to 
ihake  it.  Here,  child,  wake  up  !  "  continued  she, 
taking  hold  of  her  room-mate's  shoulder,  and 
shaking  it  roughly.     At   that   moment   the   door 


CHERRr-STONES.  71 

opened,  and  Daisy  Travers  looked  in   upon  her. 

"Good  morning,"  said  she,  turning  about 
quickly,  a  little  surprised  at  such  an  early  visit 
from  her.  Daisy  was  on  her  way  to  the  city, 
and  had  stopped  at  the  Hall  to  give  Mrs.  Burns 
a  book  she  had  asked  for  the  day  before,  and 
that  good  woman  had  informed  her  of  Dora's 
midnight  proceedings. 

"  I  am  surprised  and  grieved  to  hear  another 
bad  report  of  you,  so  soon,"  said  Daisy,  looking 
reproachfully  at  Dora,  without  replying  to  her 
*  good  morning,'  as  she  stepped   into    the    room. 

"  What  did  they  tell  you,  now  ?  I'll  bet  they 
made  it  out  worse  than  it  was,"  replied  Dora, 
sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and  casting 
a  searching  look  into  Daisy's  eyes,  which  the 
latter  could  not  understand.  She  had  received 
that  look  so  often  of  late,  that  it  was  beginning 
to  puzzle  her  exceedingly,  as  she  had  noticed  it 
was  never  bestowed  upon  anyone  but  herself; 
but  she  was  too  much  offended  to  ask  the  mean- 
ing of  it  this  morning. 

"  They  could  not  have  made  it  out  much 
worse  than  it  was,  if  it  is  true  at  all ;  and  those 
cherries  in  your  hat  prove  that  it  is." 

"  Have  some  ?     They're  just    the    nicest    ever 


72  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

you  tasted,"  said  Dora,  taking  up  the  hat,  and 
offering  its  contents  to  Daisy. 

"  I  don't  care  for  stolen  fruit,  and  this  little 
girl  must  not  see  them  when  she  wakes  up. 
Open  the  window  and  throw  them  out." 

"  Why,  that  would  be  a  wilful  waste,  an' 
*  wilful  Avaste  makes  woful  want.'  It  would  be 
woful,  now,  wouldn't  it,  to  have  me  wanting 
them  cherries,  an'  they  down  in  the  mud?" 

"  Let  me  have  the  hat !  "  and  Daisy,  before 
Dora  could  guess  at  her  intention,  had  snatched 
the  hat  from  her  hand,  and  thrown  the  cherries 
out  of  the  window. 

"If  you  wasn't  crazy,  I'd  pound  you  for  that ! '' 
exclaimed  Dora,  very  much  excited. 

"  Crazy  ? "  repeated  Daisy,  suddenly  remem- 
bering what  her  grandfather  had  said  to  her  the 
day  before,  then  laughing  at  the  thought,  as 
soon  as  it  came.     "  Do  you   think  Tm   crazy  ?  " 

"  I  hnow  you  are,  an'  you  know  it,  too,  if 
nobody  else  here  does:  an'  I  hope  it'll  make 
you  as  mad  to  hear  me  say  so,  as  it  used  to 
crazy  Bet !  "  and  there  was  a  half  doubtful,  half 
defiant  look  in  Dora's  eyes,  as  she  watched  the 
effect  of  her  words  upon  Daisy. 

"  How  long  have  you  thought  that   of  me  ?  " 


CHERR  Y-S  TONES.  73 

questioned  the  latter^  quietly  concealing  her 
surprise. 

"  Ever  since  I've  been  here.  S'pose  I  can't 
tell  a  crazy  person  when  I've  lived  with  one  all 
my  life  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  I'm  crazy  ?  Is  it 
because  I've  treated  you  kindly  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  Dora,  her  eyes  falling  beneath 
Daisy's,  '*  but  you  act  an'  talk  at  times,  just  as 
Bet  used  to.  Perhaps  you're  not  so  far  gone  as 
she  was,  but  you  will  be   when  you're   as  old." 

"Did  you  ever  know  anyone  that  wasn't 
crazy  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Name  some  one  that  you  are  quite  sure  isn't 
crazy." 

"  Mrs.  Hodges,  as  has  charge  of  the  poor-house. 
No  one  ever  said  she  was  crazy." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,  because  ;  she  was  smart,  she  was  ;  she 
could  make  us  all  mind,  even  to  crazy  Bet  her- 
self." 

"  Could  she  make  you  mind  ?  " 

"I  used  to  think  it  would  be  best  for  me  to." 

"What  would  she  do  if  you  didn't  mind." 

"Make  me  black   an'    blue   aU    over,"  repUed 


Y4  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

Dora,  confident  that  Daisy  wasn't  large  enough 
to  prove  her  saneness  that  way,  if  she  should 
try. 

By  this  time  the  little  girl  in  bed  was  awake, 
and  listening  to  all  that  was  said. 

"  Come,  Maria,  I  want  you  to  get  up  and 
dress  yourself  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  said  Daisy 
to  her;  then  taking  Dora's  dress,  she  spread  it 
across  a  chair,  sat  down  upon  it,  and,  taking  a 
note-book  from  her  pocket  she  tore  from  it  a 
leaf,  and  began  to  write  something  upon  it  with 
a  pencil  ;  Dora  watching  her  curiously  the  while. 
Presently  Maria  was  di-essed,  and  Daisy,  giving 
her  the  paper,  said: 

"  I  want  you  to  take  that  to  Mrs.  Shote,  the 
house-keeper  ;  you'll  find  her  in  the  kitchen,  I 
think.     You  need  not  come  back  again." 

"  It's  my  morning  to  make  the  bed,  aunt 
Daisy,"  said  the  small  girl,  stopping  half  way  to 
the  door,  on  remembering  that  she  would  be 
likely  to  get  a  black  mark,  if  her  room  wasn't 
in  order,  when  the  house-keeper  went  through 
the  rooms,  to  see  that  everything  was  as  it  should 
be  in  them. 

"  Never  mind.  I  will  tell  Mrs.  Shote  to  attend 
to    it    this   morning,"  replied  Daisy,    and   Maria 


CHERR  r-S  TONES.  75 

left  the  room,  very  glad  to  get  rid  of  that  much 
work,  so  easily. 

Dora  still  sat  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed,  sur- 
veying her  feet,  and  watching  Daisy,  who 
appeared  to  be  unconscious  of  her  presence,  as 
she  sat  drawing  on  her  gloves. 

Presently  Dora  stepped  down  upon  the  floor, 
and  approached  her,  with : 

"  I'd  like  my  dress  ;  you're  on   it.'* 

"  You  can't  have  it  yet." 

"  I  must.  I  want  to  dress  myself,  an'  go 
down  stairs." 

"  You  cannot." 

"Cannot?  why?" 

"  Because,  I'm  going  to  convince  you  soon,  by 
Mrs.  Hodge's  method,  that  I'm  not  crazy.  Here 
is  Mrs.  Shote,  now,"  continued  Daisy,  as  the 
stout  form  of  the  house-keeper  entered  the  room. 
"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Shote.  I  see  you  are 
prompt,  and  understood  my  note,"  continued 
Daisy,  as  her  eyes  rested  upon  a  long,  thin  rattan, 
in  the  house-keeper's  hand.     "  This   is  the  girl." 

"  Indeed,  I  m  glad  you've  resolved  to  punish 
her,  at  last.  Miss,"  said  Mrs.  Shote,  bending  the 
rattan  between  her  two  hands,  and  looking,  with 
evident  satisfaction   on   the    consternation  visible 


76  DAISr  TRA  VERS. 

on  Dora's  face.  "  I've  had  four  girls  to  bring 
up,  an'  they  wouldn't  have  been  the  smart 
women  they  are  now,  if  I  hadn't  used  the  rod 
on  'em  pretty  freely." 

"  How  did  yon  punish  them,  when  they 
deserved  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  I'd  just  tie  them  to  the  bed-post  an' 
belabor  their  shoulders  well,  with  a  stick  that 
wasn't  near  so  comfortable  as  this  one." 

"  If  Dora  must  be  punished,  and  she  says, 
herself,  it's  the  only  way  to  make  her  mind,  I 
would  rather  you  would  punish  her  on  her 
hands.  If  she  will  not  submit  to  that,  then  she 
must  be  tied  to  the  bed-post.  How  shall  it  be 
Dora  ?  "  and  Daisy  turned,  and  looked  into 
Dora's  face,  for  the  first  time  since  the  house- 
keeper entered  the  room. 

Dora  returned  the  look,  with  such  an  expression 
of  bitter  disappointment.  She  was  convinced  at 
last — and  the  knowledge  was  anything  but 
pleasant  to  her — that  Daisy  was  sane.  As  sane, 
even,  as  Mrs.  Hodges  ;  there  could  no  longer  be 
any  doubts  about  it ;  for  Bet,  good  old,  crazy 
Bet,  would  never  talk  like  that  about  having 
her  punished ;  but  would  save  her  from  being 
punished,  instead,  as  she  had  often  done,  taking 
all  the  blame  upon  herself. 


CIIERRT-STONES.  77 

"  What  are  you  going  to  whip  me  for,  any- 
how ?  I  don't  see  as  I  did  anything  very  dread- 
ful," said  she,  at  last,  looking  at  the  formi- 
dable form  of  Mrs.  Shote,  then  again  at  the 
rattan  in  her  hand. 

"Hear  that,  now!"  said  that  woman,,  address- 
ing Daisy,  with  an  incredulous  smile.  "  A  girl 
that  would  get  up  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  an' 
walk  near  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  to  steal  cherries, 
not  to  say  anything  of  disturbing  peaceable 
people,  an'  making  them  get  up,  doesn't  know 
what  she's  to  be  whipped  for !  " 

"  If  there  was  any  other  way  of  convincing 
you  that  you  must  do  better,  you  should  not 
be  punished  that  way,"  said  Daisy,  seriously. 
You  will  not  listen  to  reason,  and  cannot 
appreciate  kind  treatment,  and  your  promises  to 
do  better  are  worse  than  none.  Do  not  wait 
any  longer,  Mrs.  Shote,"  and  Daisy,  very  much 
excited  inwardly,  but  outwardly  very  calm, 
motioned  for  Mrs.  Shote  to  begin,  then  walked 
to  the  window,  and  looked  out,  for  she  could 
not  see  it  done. 

Four  sharp  quick  strokes  on  each  upraised 
hand,  and  it  was  over.  Then  Daisy  was  ready 
to  cry  ;  but  Dora's  eyes  were  dry,  and  flashed 
angrily    into    the    house-keeper's  face.      Two  or 


78  DAIS  r  TRA  VERS. 

three  quick  gasps,  were  the  only  signs  she  gave 
that  she  suffered  pain. 

"  That's  enough  for  to-day,  I  guess.  The  next 
time  will  take  me  longer ;  but  if  you're  wise 
there  won't  be  any  next  time."  With  that 
parting  admonition  Mrs.  Shote  left  the  room. 

Daisy,  as  soon  as  the  door  closed  after  the 
house-keeper,  turned  from  the  window,  and  looked 
at  her  young  protege  ;  she  was  looking  at  the 
red  lines  upon  her  hands,  and  must  have  felt 
Daisy's  gaze  upon  her,  for  presently  she  raised 
her  head,  and  flashed  her  eyes  into  Daisy's. 

In  another  moment  Daisy  had  both  the  red, 
scarred  hands  in  hers,  and  was  rubbing  them 
pityingly. 

"  Poor,  poor,  hands  !  I'm  so  sorry  for  them," 
said  she,  at  last.  "I'm  so  sorry,  but  what  could 
I  do,  Dora  ?  " 

"  I  s'pose  I  can  finish  dressing  myself,  now, 
can't  I  ?  "  returned  Dora,  pulling  away  her  hands, 
and  avoiding  Daisy's  eyes. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Daisy,  repelled  and  dis- 
appointed. 

"  How  about  locking  me  up  ?  " 

"  You  will  not  be  locked  up.  When  you 
deserve  to  be  punished  again,  Mrs.  Shote  will 
attend  to  you,"  so  saj'iug,  Daisy   left  the    room. 


CHAPTER    V. 

LUCY   "  ROOMS  "   WITH   DOEA. 


12. 

^liwiflV/^  said  Dora,  to  Lucy  Stone,  referring 
''#  y  f  to  Anne  Porter,  half  an  hour  later, 
as  the  children  were  leaving  the  dining-room. 

"  I  tried  to  curl  it  for  her,  an'  it  wouldn't 
curl,  then  I  tried  to  comb  it  smooth,  an'  couldn't, 
'cause  the  bell  rang  so  quick,  an'  we  had  to  go 
down.  She'll  get  a  black  mark,  her  hair  looks 
so.     I'm  awful  sorry."  . 

"  Sorry  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  cause  she's  trying  for  both  prizes." 

"  Is  she,  though  !  It's  like  her  to  want  both. 
If  I  were  you  I'd  rumple  her  hair  up  every 
morning,  for  her." 

"  No  you  wouldn't,  'cause  she's  promised  me 
if  she  gets  both  the  dolls  she'll  let  me  take  one, 
once  in  a  while." 

"  How  good  of  her  !     Why   don't   you  try  to 

79 


80  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

get  one  of  the  dolls,  yourself,  if  you  like  it  so 
well  as  all  that?" 

"  I  couldn't  get  one,  I  know.  I  can't  remem- 
ber my  lessons  if  I  study  ever  so  hard." 

"  You  might  get  one  for  good  behavior,  for 
you  never  do  anything  out   of  the    way,  Roily." 

"  But  I  get  marks  for  not  looking  good." 

"  Let's  look  at  you. !  Well,  you  do  look  as 
though  a  cow  had .  tossed  you,  that's  a  fact.  I 
tell  you  what,  Roily :  that  old  pig  Porter  musn't 
get  both  those  prizes.  If  you'll  come  into  my 
room  every  morning,  I'll  fix  you  up  handsome, 
see'f  I  don't ;  then  you'll  surely  get  one  of  um." 

"  Oh,  will  you  ?  But  no,  it's  against  the 
rules  for  us  to  go  into  each  other's  rooms,  to  ask 
for  help,  when  we  have  a  room-mate  to  help  us 
about  anything." 

"  I'd  laugh  to  see  Anne  Porter  helping  you 
about  anything.     Did  she  ever  offer  to  ?  " 

"  No,  but  she's  always  real  good-natured." 

"  If  you  think  so  you  must  see  yourself  reflected 
in  her  brassy  face.  Did  she  have  anything  to 
say  about  cherries,  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Dora,  I  know  all  about  that.  How 
could  you  do  it  ?  " 

"Do  what?" 


LUCr'*  ROOMS"   WITH  DORA.  81 

"  Get  up  in  the  night,  an'  go  off  after  cher- 
ries?" 

"  How  could  you  get  up  in  the  morning,  an* 
eat  your  breakfast  ?  What's  the  great  difference  ? 
She  didn't  mention  that  she  was  much  obliged 
to  me  for  anything,  did  she  ?  " 

"  No,  but  she  thought  she  was  sick  in  the 
night,  an'  made  me  call  Mrs.  Burns ;  then  she 
saw  the  cherry-stones  an'  told  her  all  about  it. 
She  said  you  would  be  locked  in  the  study, 
to-day." 

"  She  must  have  been  so  glad,  when  she  said 
it.  Here's  Mrs.  Burns  ;  I'm  going  to  speak  to 
her,"  continued  Dora,  as  the  teacher  entered  the 
school-room,  where  they  now  were,  to  Kound  the 
bell  that  would  call  all  the  children  to  their 
books. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Burns,"  said  Dora,  step- 
ping upon  the  platform,  near  the  teacher's  desk. 

*'  Good  morning,"  replied  Mrs.  Burns,  very 
much  surprised,  for  it  was  the  first  time  this 
pupil  had  ever  voluntarily  addressed  her.  "  Can 
I  do  anything  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  know  if  Lucy  Stone  can  room 
with  me,  instead  of  Maria  Hurd  ?  " 

*'  I  don't  think   a   change    would    be   allowed. 

6 


82  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

The  probability  is,  if  you  should  change  room- 
mates, the  other  children  would  suddenly  dis- 
cover that  they  wanted  to  change,  too,  which 
would  mix  matters  up  considerably ;  but  I'll 
speak  to  Miss  Travers  about  it,  and  it  will  be 
as  she  says,  of  course."  With  that  Mrs.  Burns 
turned  to  speak  to  another  scholar  Avho  was 
standing  near  her,  and  Dora  passed  on  towards 
her  seat. 

"What  are  they  going  to  do  with  you  for 
what  you  did  last  night  ? "  said  Anne  Porter, 
stopping  her,  as  she  passed  her  desk. 

"  Do  ?  Why  you  never  saw  how  they  did 
take  on  about  it." 

"  It  was  enough  to  make  them,  I  ishould 
think,"  replied  Anne,  curling  her  upper  lip 
scornfully. 

"So  I  think,  but  I  didn't  expect  they  would 
be  quite  so  glad." 

"Glad?" 

"  Yes,  that  there's  one  girl  in  school  who  isn't 
afraid  of  her  own  shadow." 

"  That  sounds  likely,  doesn't  it !  "  and  Anne's 
lip  curled  higher.  "  I  don't  see  why  they  didn't 
lock  you  up." 

"  Lock  me   up  !     Why   they've  given   me   the 


LUCr  '«  ROOMS  "   WITH  DORA.  83 

run  of  the  house,  an'  I'm  to  have  preserves 
every  meal,  if  I  want  um.  I'm  to  do  just  as  I 
want  to  for  two  months,  an'  at  the  end  of  that 
time  I'm  to  have  a  hand-organ.     Think  of  that ! " 

"  A  hand-/e^^er  more  like,  such  as  they  put  on 
people's  hands  when  they  take  them  to  prison. 
What  were  you  saying  to  Mrs.  Burns  ?" 

"  I  was  telling  her  you'd  ought  to  have  a  credit 
this  morning  on  account  of  your  hair.  It's  really 
very  becoming  to  you,  the  way  it's  fixed." 

"  You  needn't  trouble  yourself  about  my  credits, 
I  shall  have  enough  of  them,"  and  Anne  tossed 
her  head  angrily,  though  she  appeared  to  be 
trying  to  find  something  that  was  on  a  map 
hanging  on  the  wall.  But  Dora  wasn't  much 
interested  in  maps,  and  would  not  take  her  eyes 
from  her  (Anne's)  hair  to  look  at  it. 

"  Lucy  says  you  expect  to  get  both  prizes." 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall  get  one.  I'm  the  only  girl 
here  that  can  get  a  lesson." 

"  That  does  get  a  lesson,  you  mean." 

"  No,  I  mean  that  can  get  one." 

*'Well  you  are  smart,  for  your  kind.  I  tell 
you  what,  Anne,  they  promised  me  a  hand-organ, 
but  didn't  say  anything  about  a  monkey.  Per- 
haps you'll   be   good-natured,  about    that    time, 


84  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

an'  won't  mind  trotting  'round  while  I  grind." 
At  that  moment  the  bell  sounded,  and  the  chil- 
dren took  their  seats,  to  begin  to  study  the 
lessons  for  the  day. 

"  She  hates  me,  now,  worse'n  crazy  Bet  used 
to  hate  spiders,"  said  Dora  to  herself.  "  I  always 
used  to  think,"  continued  she,  "that  I  couldn't 
get  a  lesson  out  of  a  book ;  now  I'm  going  to 
try.  Wouldn't  it  be  better'n  cherries,  if  I  could 
help  Lucy  to  get  one  of  those  prizes.  She  likes 
dolls;  I  don't.  But  I  don't  like  to  be  told  I 
carC\,  do  a  thing  tiU  I've  tried.  Everybody  told 
Mrs.  Hodges  she  couldn't  stop  a  hen  from  set- 
ting ;  but  land  !  she  did,  by  chopping  its  head 
off.  If  I  can't  get  lessons  as  well  as  Anne 
Porter,  my  head  ought  to  be  chopped  off,  true's 
preaching."  With  that  Dora  took  out  a  book, 
and  began  to  study,  much  to  Mrs.  Burns  won- 
der ;  even  the  children  noticed  her  unusual 
conduct,  and  glanced  towards  her  every  once  in 
a  while,  thinking,  perhaps,  she  was  plotting  some 
new  mischief. 

After  the  lessons  were  through  for  the  day, 
Daisy  drove  up  to  the  Hall,  in  the  pony  phteton 
as  usual,  to  take  the  boy  and  girl  \^ho  had 
recited  the  best,  and  the   boy  and  girl  who  had 


LUCT''  ROOMS"    WITH  DORA.  85 

behaved  the  best,  to  ride.  Dora  was  standing 
at  the  window,  when  she  drove  up,  but  on 
perceiving  her,  she  immediately  left  the  school- 
room, and  went  up  stairs  to  her  own  apartment. 

"I  think  I  have  a  little  surprise  for  you," 
said  Mrs.  Burns  to  Daisy,  as  the  latter  entered. 

"  A  surprise  ?  "  repeated  Daisy,  noticing  that 
Dora  was  absent,  and  dreading  to  hear  what 
would  follow. 

"  Yes,  in  regard  to  Dora." 

"I  do^'t  think  it  will  surprise  me  much.  I'm 
prepared  to  hear  almost  anything  about  her, 
always." 

"Well,  then,  I  haven't  had  cause  to  reprove 
her  once  to-day  ;  and  her  lessons  have  been 
perfect." 

"  Is  that,  indeed,  true,  Mrs.  Burns  ? "  said 
Daisy,  very  much  surprised,  after  all. 

"  Yes,  she  and  Lucy  go  to  ride  with  you, 
and  little  Martin,  here,  and  Edgar." 

"  "Where  is  she,  now  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  she  has  gone  to  her  room,  to  put 
on  her  hat.     She  went  out  a  minute  ago." 

"  You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  that 
of  her,  Mrs.  Burns.  I  was  beginning  to  be 
afraid  we  could  do  nothing  with  her,"  said  Daisy, 


86  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

in  a  low  tone,  that  the  children  might  not  hear. 
*'  She  is  gone  long,  isn't  she  ?  I  think  I'll  go 
up  and  speak  to  her,  as  the  others  are  ready  to 
go,"  continued  Daisy,  immediately  proceeding 
up  stairs  to  Dora's  room. 

Opening  the  door  softly  she  looked  in.  Dora 
was  sitting  by  the  open  window,  thinking  how 
easy  it  was,  after  all,  to  have  perfect  lessons, 
and  feeling  very  well  satisfied  with  herself, 
indeed. 

Don't  you  want  to  go  to  ride,  Dora?"  said 
Daisy,  as  the  former  turned  to  see  who  had 
opened  the  door. 

"  I  don't  like  to  ride.  Let  one  of  the  little 
ones  go  in  my  place,"  was  the  reply. 

Daisy,  disappointed  again,  turned  to  leave 
her,  thinking  it  best  to  appear  perfectly  satisfied 
with  her  decision,  when  she  was  arrested  by 
her  saying : 

"  Has  Mrs.  Burns  said  anything  about  Lucy 
Stone  rooming  with  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  She  said  she  would.  I  want  to  know  if 
Lucy  can  room  with  me,  instead  of  Maria  ?  " 

"  If  Lucy  is  willing,  yes." 

"  That's  all  right,  then.     An'  I  guess  I'll  try 


LUCr  "  ROOMS  "    WITH  DORA.  87 

for  one  of  the  dolls  instead  of  the  hand-organ, 
if  it  isn't  too  late." 

"I'm  very  glad  to  hear  it,  and  of  course  it 
isn't  too  late." 

"  If  I  should  get  one  I  s'pose  I  can  do  what 
I've  a  mind  to  with  it,  can't  I  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"That's  all  I  wanted  to  know."  "With  that 
abrupt  dismissal,  Dora  turned  to  the  window 
again,  and  Daisy,  more  puzzled  than  ever,  left 
her  to  herself. 

An  hour  after,  Lucy  came  up,  with : 

"Oh,  Dora,  how  did  you  do  it?" 

"Do  what?" 

"  Get  me  to  room  with  you  ?  You  don't  know 
how  glad  I  am ;  an'  Anne  Porter  is  furious, 
because  I  said  I'd  do  her  work,  while  she  studied 
and  fixed  herself,  an'  now  I'm  going  to  be  with 
you.     She  says  I'm  worse  than  you  are." 

"  I'm  oblij^ed  to  her.     I'd  no  idea  she  thoug^h 
so  well  of  me.     She    can   get   Maria   to   do    her 
work,  that  is  if  she  can  wake  her  up   in   time  ; 
I  think  after  she  tries  that  a  spell,  she'll  prefer 
to  do  her  own  work." 

"  Why  wouldn't  you  go  to  ride  with  us  ? 
We  had  a  splendid  time.     Aunt  Daisy  talked  to 


88  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

US  all  the  way,  an'  told  us  ever  so  many  things 
we  didn't  know  before.  Then  we  tied  the  ponies 
to  a  tree,  an'  took  a  long  walk  through  the 
woods.  An'  we  found  a  crow's  nest  with  five 
young  crows  in  it." 

"  I  would  have  liked  the  crows." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't.  They  are  homely  things, 
an'  most  all  mouths." 

"  I  don't  think  they're  homely.  I  had  one, 
once,  an'  it  was  so  tame  it  would  follow  me 
just  like  a  kitten.  I  got  it  out  of  the  nest 
when  it  was  little,  an'  had  it  for  months,  before 
anyone  found  it  out,  till  one  day  fatty  Hodges, 
Mrs.  Hodge's  husband,  caught  it  trying  to  run 
away  with  his  hammer,  to  hide  it.  He  tried  to 
kill  it,  but  I  managed  to  get  it  away,  an'  I 
kept  it  close  for  a  long  time,  till  Mrs.  Hodges 
missed  her  silver  thimble.  She  said  it  was  silver, 
though  it  smelt  of  brass  horridly.  Then  she 
said  the  crow  had  stolen  it,  an'  hid  it  away, 
where  no  one  could  ever  find  it ;  so  she  watched 
me  when  I  went  to  feed  my  crow,  an'  followed  me 
to  find  out  where  I  kept  it,  an'  when  she  found 
out  she  got  her  dog,  an'  set  him  on  it.  He 
killed  it.     Bit  it  right  through  the  head." 

"  Oh,  that  was  too  bad !  " 


LUCY'' ROOMS''   WITH  DORA.  89 

"  Crazy  Bet  said  she'd  go  with  me  an'   try  to 
find    another    crow's    nest ;  but    I    didn't    want 
another  crow ;  I   knew   it  would  get  killed  like 
the  first.     Crow's  nests  are  hard  to  find.     I  don' 
see  how  you  found  one  to-day." 

"  Why,  we  saw  the  old  crow,  an'  Aunt  Daisy 
said  it  had  a  nest  somewhere  near,  she  could 
tell  by  the  way  it  acted.  If  we  walked  in  one 
direction,  it  would  fly  at  us,  an'  make  a  dreadful 
noise,  but  if  we  turned  about,  an'  walked  another 
way  it  wouldn't  notice  us ;  so  we  walked  towards 
it,  till  we  found  the  nest.  It  was  on  top  of  a 
great  high  tree.  Edgar  wanted  to  go  up  an' 
look  in  it,  an'  Aunt  Daisy  said  he  might.  Then 
he  brought  down  one  of  the  young  birds  for  us 
to  see,  an*  took  it  back  again,  after  we  had  seen 
it.     Don't  you  wish  you  had  been  with  us  ?  " 

"  "What  do  you  think  of  Aunt  Daisy,  as  you 
call  her  ? "  interrogated  Dora,  slightly  changing 
the  subject. 

"  What  do  I  think  of  her  ?  "  repeated  Lucy. 

"Yes,  do  you  like  her?" 

"  As  though  anyone  could  help  liking  her, 
when  she's  so  good.     Don't  you  like  her  ?  " 

"  I  did  like  her." 

"  Don't  you  now  ?  " 


90  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"If  you  keep  on  asking  so  many  questions, 
Lucy,  you'll  know  more'n  your  head  can  hold. 
You  had  better  begin  to  bring  your  things  in 
here,  an'  call  Maria  to  take  her's  out.  It'll  be 
supper  time  in  a  minute." 

Lucy  came  down  the  next  morning,  looking 
very  neat  and  pretty. 

*'  Oh,  I  think  I  understand  it  now ! "  said 
Anne,  to  herself,  on  seeing  her.  "  That's  all 
Dora  Wentworth's  work.  She's  determined  I 
shan't  get  both  of  the  prizes,  an'  as  she  can't 
get  one  herself,  she's  going  to  help  Lucy  to  get 
one,  out  of  spite.  I  don't  care.  I'm  sure  of 
one,  anyhow,  if  she  did  have  perfect  lessons 
yesterday.  She'd  have  to  work  pretty  hard  to 
catch  up  with  me,  after  all  the  time  she's  lost. 
I  guess  I'll  keep  on  trying  for  both  ;  she'd  be 
so  mad  if  I  got  them.  I  wonder  where  she  is  ? 
She  wasn't  down  to  prayers."  But  Anne  did 
»not  have  to  wonder  long,  for  at  that  moment 
Dora  came  down,  looking  as  though  she  had 
dressed  herself  in  a  hurry ;  but  her  face  was 
radiant. 

"  She's  been  up  to  more  mischief.  All  the 
worse  for  her,"*  continued  Anne  to  herseK, 
then     aloud,    as    Dora    passed    near    her,    "you 


LUCr  "  ROOMS  "    WITH  DORA.  91 

have  got  a  mark  for  not  being  down  to  prayers." 

"  Have  I  ?  "  said  Dora,  innocently. 

"  Yes ;  and  you'll  doubtless  have  another  for 
not  being  half  dressed." 

"  That's  good.  I  always  did  like  marks  of 
all  kinds.  I  expect  to  make  my  mark,  some 
day,  don't  I,  Mark?"  and  Dora  turned  abruptly 
to  a  small  boy,  with  a  very  wide  mouth,  which 
was  now  stretched  to  its  utmost  extent ;  while 
Anne  tossed  her  head,  contemptuously,  and 
walked  off.  "  There,  that'll  do,  Mark.  Don't 
grin  any  more.  You  make  me  think  of  a  box 
that  opens  on  hinges,  an'  I  feel  as  though  I 
wanted  to  take  hold  of  your  nose  an'  open  you, 
when  I  see  your  mouth  stretched  way  round 
like  that.  Say,  Mark,  have  you  got  a  knife 
you'll  let  me  take  ?  " 

"  A  knife  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  a  knife." 

*' I  never  had  a  knife  in  my  life." 
•"How  in  the  world  have  you  lived  so  long? 
But  perhaps  you  took  a  dinner-knife,  when  you 
wanted  to  whittle.  I've  often  done  that,  myself; 
but  I  found  a  splendid  three-bladed  knife  one 
day  in  the  street.  I  forgot  to  bring  it  with  me 
when  I  came  here,  though,    an'  I   never   missed 


92    .  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

anything  so  much  in  my  life,  as  I've  missed 
that.  Have  any  of  the  boys  got  one,  do  you 
know  ? " 

"  Don't  b'lieve  they  have.  I  never  saw  them 
have  one." 

"  Well,  if  I  were  you,  instead  of  trying  to 
win  an  old  toy  ship  for  a  prize,  I'd  speak  out, 
an'  say  I'd  rather  have  a  'knife.  Twelve  boys, 
an'  not  a  knife  in  the  crowd !  " 

"  I've  got  one,"  said  Edgar  Ford,  who  had 
heard  the  conversation  between  the  two,  stepping 
up,  and  searching  his  pockets  for  the  desired 
article. 

"  Let  me  take  'it  ?  " 

"For  how  long?" 

"  A  week,  perhaps." 

"  I  don't  care  ;  only  have  it  handy,  in  case  I 
should  want  it  before  that  time." 

"  All  right." 

*'  Dora  ? "  called  Mrs.  Burns,  who  had  been 
informed  by  Anne  that  Dora  was  borrowing  a 
knife,  and  who  was  made  nervous  by  the  know- 
ledge.    "  Dora  ?  " 

"  Yes'm." 

*'  What  is  that  you  have  in  your  hand  ?  " 

"  Edgar  says  it's  a  knife,"  replied  Dora,  open- 


LUCV  ROOMS  "   WITH  DORA.  93 

ing  it.  *'  But  I  should  say  it's  a  screw-driver, 
seeing  the  point's  gone,  an'  both  edges  are  ahke." 

"Is  that  your  knife,  Edgar?"  said  Mrs.  B. 

**  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Take  it  back,  then.  I  wouldn't  like  to  trust 
Dora  with  a  knife.  She  might  get  angry  with 
one  of  the  little  girls,  and  do  her  a  harm  with 
it." 

"  That  knife  couldn't  harm  a  fly,"  returned 
Dora,  "  but  land !  you  can  have  it  back.  I'd 
as  soon  try  to  whittle  with  the  latch  of  a  door 
as  with  that,"  and  Dora  returned  the  knife,  and 
walked   away,  looking   very   much   disappointed. 

Lucy  heard  the  whole  and  started  to  follow 
her.  "  Dora,"  said  she,  taking  her  by  the  arm, 
as  she  was  going  out.  "  Dora,  come  up  to  our 
room  a  minute." 

"What  for?" 

"I'll  tell  3^ou  when  we  get  there." 

"  But  we  can't  hear  the  study-bell  there." 

"  I  believe  you're  trying  for  a  prize,  Dora.  I 
saw  you  studying  yesterday  as  though  you  were, 
an'  now  you're  so  particular  about  hearing  the 
study-bell." 

"  Bother  the  prize !  I'm  only  trying  to  see 
what  I  can  do." 


94  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

"  Well,  come  up  to  our  room  a  minute,  there 
is  plenty  of  time.  I've  got  something  I  want  to 
show  you." 

"I'm  there,  then." 

A  minute  later,  Lucy  was  kneeling  before  the 
bureau  in  her  room,  opening  the  drawer  that 
held  all  her  earthly  possessions.  Taking  out  a 
small  box,  she  opened  it,  and  took  from  it  some- 
thing that  was  carefully  wrapt  up  in  paper. 

"  There !  "  said  she,  handing  it  to  Dora,  "you 
can  take  that,  because  you'-ve  been  so  good  to 
me.  I'd  give  it  to  you,  only  it  used  to  be  my 
brother's,  an'  it's  all  I've  got  to   remember  him 

by." 

Dora  removed  the  paper,  and  exposed  to 
view  an  ordinary,  two-bladed  pocket-knife. 

"  I'm  just  as  glad  as  I  can  be !  "  exclaimed 
she,  opening  the  blades  to  see  if  they  were  in 
a  good  condition.     "  It's  just  what  I  wanted." 

"  You  won't  do  any  Harm  with  it ;  will  you?  " 
said  Lucy,  suddenly  remembering  what  Mrs. 
Burns 'had  said. 

"  I  won't  take  it  out  of  this  room.  Roily ;  an' 
I  won't  take  it  at   all,  if  you  are   afraid  of  me." 

"  Dear,  me  I  I  wasn't  thinking  about  myself, 
at  all.     Tell  me  what  you're  going   to   do  with 


LUCr  "  ROOMS  "   WITH  DORA.  95 

it  ?  "  and  Lucy  sat  down  upon  the  floor,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  over  her  knees,  and  looking 
inquiringly  up  into  Dora's  face. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  if  you'll  keep 
still  about  it.  See  what  I  found  this  morning  !  " 
and  Dora  drew  from  under  the  bed,  a  block  of 
wood  nearly  a  foot  square. 

"  I  don't  think  that's  a  very  big  find,"  said 
Lucy,  after  one  glance  at  it. 

"  Just  look  at  it.  There's  not  a  knot  in  it, 
nor  a  crack." 

"  What  of  that  ?  What's  it  good  for,  any- 
how?" 

"  Just  you  wait,  an'  you'll  see.  What  kind 
of  an  animal  does  Anne  Porter  remind  you  of  ?  " 

*'  What  kind  of  an  animal  ?  "  repeated  Lucy, 
inquiringly,  wrinkling  up  her  round  face,  in  a 
puzzled  manner,  as  she  looked  at  Dora  for  an 
explanation. 

"  Yes  ;  don't  everybody  remind  you  of  some 
kind  of  an  animal  ?  I've  found  out,  at  last, 
what  she's  like  ;  she's  just  hke  the  old  speckled 
pig  they  had  at  the  poor-house,  going  round 
sticking  her  nose  into  everything,  an'  trying  to 
get  everything  for  herself.  She  looks  like  it, 
too,    about  the   eyes.     Land !      I    could    almost 


96  DAISr  TRA  VERS. 

hear  her  grunt,  this  morning,  when  she  was  so 
glad  'cause  I  got  a  mark." 

"  What's  that  to  do  with  the  block  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  cut  a  pig  out  of  it,  an'  write 
on  it,  '  a  good  likeness  of  Anne  Porter.'  Then 
I'U  put  it  in  her  desk.  Won't  she  be  mad  when 
she  sees  it !  I'll  bet  she  won't  eat  any  pork 
for  a  month  afterwards." 

"  You  can't  cut  a  pig  out  of  that  block,"  said 
Lucy,  incredulously. 

"  Wait  an'  see  if  I  can't.  I've  cut  out  things 
before  to-day,  I  guess.  If  I  cut  out  Mrs. 
Hodge's  face  once,  I  cut  it  out  a  dozen  times. 
She  always  knew  it  was  meant  for  her  face, 
though  I  always  made  it  look  worse'n  she  did,  a 
purpose." 

"  Didn't  it  make  her  mad  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so,  though  I  never  happened  to  be 
'round  when  she  found  it.  I  used  to  sly  into 
her  room,  when  she  was  eatin'  dinner,  an'  put 
it  on  the  bureau,  right  front  of  the  looking 
glass,  where  she'd  see  it,  first  thing,  when  she 
went  up  to  comb  her  hair.  Crazy  Bet  said  she 
thought  her  husband  made  it  an'  put  it  there,  as 
he  used  to  be  whittling  'bout  all  the  time  ;  an' 
she'd    make    him    step  round  lively,  for  a  week 


LUCr  '♦  ROOMS  "    WITH  DORA.  97 

afterwards,  every  time.  But  then  he'd  make  u% 
step  'round  lively,  in  turn,  so  I  didn't  make 
much  by  it,  an'  gave  up  doing  it,  after  a 
while." 

"  We'd  better  go  down,  now ! "  exclaimed 
Lucy,  suddenly  springing  to  her  feet,  as  she 
thought  it  must  be  time  for  study.  And  Dora, 
after  carefully  hiding  the  block  and  knife  under 
the  bed,  followed  her  to  the  recitation  room, 
which  they  reached  not  a  minute  too  soon. 

That  day  also,  Dora's  lessons  were  perfect, 
to  the  surprise  of  all  but  herself.  But  Anne  was 
not  at  all  alarmed.  She  felt  quite  sure  that 
Dora  could  not  now  catch  up  with  her,  even 
if  she  herself  did  miss  occasionally,  and  rather 
enjoyed  witnessing  her  late  attempts. 

This  day  as  the  day  before,  Dora  refused  to 
take  a  ride  with  Daisy,  and  the  latter  did  not 
urge  her  to  go.  Lucy  lost  her  ride  by  some 
small  misdemeanor ;  so  after  lessons  were  over, 
both  the  girls  went  up  to  their  room  together, 
where  Dora  puUed  out  the  block,  and  sitting 
down  by  the  window,  began  to  whittle  away  at 
it,  while  Lucy  seated  herself  on  the  floor  before 
her,  to  watch  her  proceedings. 

"  I    don't   see  why    you  wouldn't    take    your 

7 


98  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

ride,"  said  Lucy,  at  last,  after  watching  for  ten 
minutes  and  perceiving  no  signs  of  a  pig  in  the 
block  in  Dora's  hands.  "  If  you  don't  like  Aunt 
Daisy,  you'd  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself, 
after  what  she's  done  for  you,  an'  you're  the 
only  one  in  the  school  that  doesn't  think  she's 
splendid."  Dora  stopped  whittling,  and  looked 
at  Lucy,  a  little  surprised  at  her  unusual  earn- 
estness. 

"  Did  I  say  I  didn't  like  her  ?  " 

"  You  act  it  plain  enough,  without  saying 
it." 

"There's  no  love  lost,  anyway;  so  don't  fret 
about  it.  Roily,  you'll  lose  flesh  if  you  do." 

"  Then  you  don't  like  her  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,  if  you  must  know.  I  rather 
guess  I  hate  her.  She  isn't  much  older'n  I  am, 
anyway,  an'  the  idea  of  her  telling  Mrs.  Shote 
to  do  what  she  did.  If  I  ever  get  a  chance  to 
pay  her  back,  I  will ;  see'f  I  don't !  " 

"  Oh,  Dora,  you  wouldn't  harm  Aunt  Daisy  !  " 
and  Lucy's  round  eyes  opened  very  wide  with 
amazement. 

"  Can't  teU  till  I  get  a  chance.  Guess  I'd  like 
to  give  her  just  as  good  as  she  gave  me,  anyhow. 
Now  se§  here.  Roily,  I  don't  want    to   get   mad 


LUCT''  ROOMS"   WITH  DORA.  99 

with  you,  an'  nothing  '11  make  me  unless  you 
keep  on  talking  about  Aunt  Daisy.  The  one 
that  made  that  knife  didn't  have  common  sense  ! 
Might'a  known  such  a  shaped  handle  as  that 
would  blister  anyone's  hands,"  continued  she, 
dropping  the  knife  and  block  in  her  lap,  and 
looking  at  the  blister  that  had  come  already 
upon  her  hand. 

Lucy  made  no  reply,  but  the  expression  upon 
her  face  showed  that  Dora  had  fallen  greatly  in 
her  estimation.  Presently  she  arose  and  left 
the  room. 

"  I  don't  suppose,  now,"  said  Dora  to  herself, 
as  soon  as  she  had  gone,  winding  her  handker- 
chief around  the  handle  of  the  knife  to  protect 
her  hand.  "  I  don't  suppose  now,  she'll  ever  like 
me  again  as  well  as  she  did.  Nobody  ever  did 
like  me  but  Crazy  Bet,  an'  perhaps  she  wouldn't 
if  she  hadn't  been  crazy.  I  almost  wish  I  was 
back  again  with  her.  I  wonder  if  she  misses 
mc,  an'  if  she  ever  gets  any  tea,  now.  Poor, 
old  Bet !  "  then,  after  a  pause,  ''  I  wasn't  sure 
that  I  hated  Aunt  Daisy  before,  but  now  I'm 
sure  of  it." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

DOHA   "  PAYS  "    DAISY. 

IPunt  daisy." 

'*Well,  Lucy?  What  is  it?"  and 
Daisy  took  both  of  Lucy's  plump  little 
hands  in  her  own,  and  smiled  down  into  her 
round  face  ;  for  of  all  the  girls  at  Hive  Hall 
this  was  hei*  favorite. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you-  something." 

"Well,  I'm  listening." 

"It's  about  Dora." 

"What  about  her?" 

"  I  want  you  to  be  careful,  an'  not  give  her 
a  chance  to  hurt  you ;  because  she  would,  I 
know,  if  she  should  get  you  alone." 

"  Oh,  Lucy,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  you  talk  like 
that.  I  thought  you  and  she  were  going  to  be 
great  friends,  and  was  very  glad  of  it.  What  is 
the  trouble  between  you  ?  " 

"  There's  no  trouble,  an'  we  are  friends ;  but 
100 


DORA  "  PATS  "  DAISr.  101 

she  said  she'd  pay  you  back  for  what  you  did 
to  her,  an'  I  know  she'll  keep  her  word.  She 
was  always  real  good  to  me,  an'  I  wouldn't 
have  told,  only  I  don't  want  you  to   get  hurt." 

"  Did  she  say  what  it  was  I  did  to  her  ?  " 

"  No.  You  will  not  do  anj-thing  to  her  for 
saying  what  she  did,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  And,  Lucy,  though  it  would 
have  been  better  if  you  had  tried  to  reason  with 
her  and  convince  her  that  she  was  wrong, 
instead  of  coming  to  me  and  repeating  what  she 
had  told  you  in  confidence,  and  what,  perhaps, 
she  did  not  mean  at  all ;  nevertheless,  I  am  very 
glad  you  did  tell  me,  for  it  may  be  the  means 
of  making  us  understand  each  other.  Now  run 
along  ;  there's  the  supper-bell." 

A  surprise  awaited  the  children,  in  the  shape 
of  a  treat ;  for  after  they  had  finished  their  usual 
supper,  in  came  Mrs.  Sliote  with  a  great  basket 
of  white-heart  cherries,  and  every  plate  was 
heaped  high  with  the  delicious  fruit,  that  had 
been  picked  from  the  very  tree  on  which  Dora 
had  made  her  midnight  raid. 

Dora,  on  seeing  them,  did  not  appear  so 
delighted  as  the  other  children  did,  and  seemed 
to  eat  them  with  reluctance. 


102  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  I  guess  Dora  don't  like  cherries,"  said  one 
little  girl  to  Anne  Porter. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Anne,  who  knew  better. 

"  'Cause  she  eats  them  as  though  she  didn't," 
was  the  reply,  as  the  speaker  held  up  two  to 
eat  at  once. 

"  Oh,  that's   because  she   didn't  steal    them." 

•'  Steal  them  ?  "  said  the  first  speaker,  loud 
enough  for  Dora  to  hear. 

"  Yes ;  wait  till  we  go  out,  an'  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  it." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  ever  mention  that  matter 
again,"  said  Daisy  in  a  low  tone  to  Anne ;  she  had 
been  standing  behind  them,  and  had  heard  all  — 
then  walking  over  to  Dora,  who  was  now  eating 
her  cherries  with  evident  satisfaction,  she  bent 
down,  and  putting  her  face  close  to  Dora's,  said : 

*'  I  want  you  to  come  up  to  my  study  as  soon 
as  you  have  finished  your  cherries  ;  I  will  only 
keep  you  a  few  minutes,"  then  she  went  out, 
and  left  the  children  to  themselves. 

Dora  sat  until  she  had  finished  her  last  cherry  ; 
then  she  went  up  to  her  room,  and,  pulling  out 
her  block  from  its  hiding-place,  began  to  whittle. 
She  worked  away  at  it,  dihgently,  for  perhaps 
ten  minutes,  looking  very  ill  at  ease,  and  dissat- 


DORA'' PArS''  DAIS  r.  103 

isfied.  Presently  she  arose,  and  putting  back 
the  block  and  knife,  said  to  herself :  "  I  may 
as  well  hear  what  she's  got  to  say,  anyway. 
She'll  bring  Mrs.  Shote  in  to  me,  if  I  don't,  I 
suppose.  I  wish  I  was  back  with  Mrs.  Hodges 
an'  crazy  Bet  —  oh,  don't  I!"  "With  that  Dora 
proceeded  towards  Daisy's  study. 

The  door  was  open  when  she  reached  it,  and 
Daisy  was  sitting  by  the  window  waiting  for 
her.  She  arose,  as  Dora  entered,  and,  going  to 
the  door,  shut  it,  and  turned  the  key  in  the 
lock. 

"  I  did  not  do  that,  Dora,  to  lock  you  in," 
said  she,  perceiving  that  Dora  noticed  the  act, 
"  but  to  lock  everybody  else  out.  1  asked  you 
to  come  up  here  to  give  you  a  chance  to  pay 
me ;  you'll  find  the  same  rattan  on  the  desk 
there,  that  Mrs.  Shote  used  on  you.  Why  don't 
you  hurry  ?  "  for  Dora  hesitated.  "  Is  it  possible 
you  don't  want  to  pay  me,  after  all  ?  " 

No,  it  was  not  possible,  for  Dora  went  imme- 
diately to  the  desk,  and  taking  the  rattan, 
approached  Daisy  with  it,  trying  to  look  as 
though  everything  was  just  as  it  lehould  be. 
Daisy  held  out  her  hand.  What  a  tender,  little 
white  hand  it  was  I     Dora   could  not  help   com- 


104  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

paring  it  to  her  own,  which  were  rough,  and 
coarse,  from  doing  hard  work  at  the  poor-house. 
Well,  this  hand  was  tender,  and  would  feel  the 
pain  all  the  more.  Down  came  the  rattan  relent- 
lessly upon  it.  Once  !  twice  !  ttxree  times  !  Then 
Dora  stole  a  look  into  Daisy's  face.  She  stood 
it  bravely.  This  would  decide  if  she  would  ever 
have  any  power  over  this  girl,  and  she  scarcely 
felt  the  pain,  her  thoughts  were  so  busy  imag- 
ining how  it  would  end.  The  fourth  time  Dora 
hesitated,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment ;  down 
went  the  rattan  again,  and  with  that  blow  she 
realized  for  the  first  time  all  that  hand  had  done 
for  her ;  realized  the  difference  between  her  life, 
now,  and  what  it  had  been  before  that  hand 
was  held  out  to  help  her.  Up  went  Daisy's 
other  hand,  and  down  went  the  rattan  upon  that, 
but  this  time  it  descended  hesitatingly,  and  Daisy 
felt  no  pain  ;  presently  she  looked  into  the  face 
before  her  to  see  why  another  blow  did  not 
follow,  and  their  eyes  met.  Then  down  went 
the  rattan  upon  the  floor,  and  down  went  Dora 
after  it,  all  in  a  bunch,  crying  as  though  her 
heart  would  break. 

Daisy  took  up  the  rattan,  and  held  it  towards 
her,  saying : 


Dora  "  pays  "  Daisy.  —  Page  104. 


DORA  ''PATS''  DAISY.  105 

"You  have  not  finished  yet ;  there  are  three 
more,  you  know." 

"  Take  it  away !  Go  away,  can't  you,  an'  let 
me  be  alone,  for  a  little  while,"  was  the  broken 
reply. 

"Tell  me," first,  if  we  are  even,  now,  Dora?" 
said  Daisy,  kneeling  down  upon  the  floor  beside 
her.     A  gasping  sob  was  the  only  reply. 

"  Tell  me,  Dora,  are  we  even,  now  ? "  and 
Daisy's  hand  fell  softly  upon  the  arm  that  was 
trembling  with   emotion. 

"No — no!  oh,  go  away,  till  I  get  over  this." 
"  I'm  so  sorry  we  are   not,  Dora.     I'm   afraid 
you'll  always  hate  me." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  talk  like  that,  for, 
when  you  hate  me,  you  know  you  do  !  "  said 
Dora,  hotly,  lifting  her  flushed  face. 

"  I  hate  you^  Dora  ?  You  do  not  believe  that, 
I'm  sure.  Have  I  ever  given  you  cause  to  think 
that,  since  you've  been  here  ? "  down  went 
Dora's  head  again,  and  a  low  moan  was  the 
only  reply. 

"  Tell  me,  Dora,  if  you  have  had  cause  to 
think  I  hate  you  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  but  I  hate  myself !  I  hate  myself ! 
I  hate  myself !  "  and  Dora  snatched  Daisy's  poor, 


106  DAISY  TRA  VERS. 

red  hand,  that  was  resting  lightly  on  hers,  and 
pressed  it  passionately  to  her  wet,  hot  face. 

"  You  have  no  cause  to  do  that,  either,  Dora, 
for  I  know  that  you  have  a  good,  loving  heart. 
But  }'ou  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it,  poor  child  ! 
and  it's  no  wonder  you  mistrusted  my  feeling  for 
you.  You  will  no  longer  doubt,  will  you,  that 
I  want  to  be  a  true  friend  to  you,  and  you 
can't  tell  how  much  I  want  you  to  like  me  in 
return,"  said  Daisy,  the  tears  chasing  each  other 
down  her  own  cheeks,  now. 

"I  shall  always  have  it  to  think  of — what  I 
did  to  you,  just  now." 

"  It  was  the  very  best  thing  that  could  have 
happened,  Dora.  You  might  have  gone  on  mis- 
understanding me  for  I  don't  know  how  long  ; 
and  losing  your  rides,  too,"  continued  Daisy, 
with  a  little  laugh.  "  You  will  not  refuse  to  go 
to  ride  with  me  to-morrow,  will  you?  if  you 
earn  the  right  to." 

"I  never  should  have  refused,  only — " 

"  Only  what  ?  "  for  Dora  hesitated  to  complete 
her  sentence. 

"  I  was  sure  you  hated  me,  an'  wouldn't  care 
to  have  me  with  you."  Daisy  bent  down,  at 
that,  and  pressed  upon  Dora's  forehead  the  first 


DORA  "  PArs  "  DAISr.  107 

kiss  she  had  given  her  since  she  had  been  at 
Hive  Hall. 

"  If  I  had  known  that — but  never  mind,  you'll 
not  think  it  again.  Dry  your  eyes,  now,  Dora. 
They'll  be  wondering  what  has  become  of  us, 
and  they  must  not  see  us  looking  like  this, 
without  an  onion  to  show  as  the  cause,"  said 
Daisy  with  a  laugh,  that  did  not  agree  with  the 
expression  upon  her  face.  Then  thinking  that 
Dora  would  regain  her  composure  sooner  if  alone, 
she  arose  and  put  on  her  hat,  concealing  her 
face  as  much  as  possible  behind  her  veil ;  then 
taking  a  book  from  a  stand,  she  placed  it  upon 
the  desk,  saying : 

"  I  must  go,  npw,  Dora,"  you  can  stay  here 
as  long  as  you  want  to.  Here  is  a  book  full 
of  nice  pictures,  that  you  can  look  at,  if  you 
wish  to." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Dora  entered  her  own 
room,  "looking  kind  of  queer,"  so  Lucy,  who 
had  been  waiting  for  her,  and  wondering  where 
she  could  be,  said  to  herself,  as  she  entered. 

*'  Where  have  you  been  ?  I  thought  you  were 
in  a  hurry  to  get  that  pig  done.  You'll  never 
get  it  done  at  this  rate.  I  can't  see  any  sign 
of  a  pig  yet." 


108  DAISY  TEA  VERS. 

"  I  guess  I  won't  make  a  pig,"  replied  Dora, 
taking  the  block  that  Lucy  had  been  looking 
at. 

"  There  !  I  knew  you'd  have  to  give  it  up  !  " 
and  Lucy's  face  expressed  her  disappointment. 

"  What  are  angels  ?  Lucy." 

"  Angels  ?  "Why  don't  you  know  ?  Angels 
are  in  heaven." 

"  But  what  are  they  ?  " 

"  Why,  everybody  that's  real  good,  when  they 
die  they  go  to  heaven,  an'  are  angels." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  please  a  lady,  if  I 
should  cut  an  angel  out  of  this  block,  an'  give 
it  to  her,  an'  tell  her  she'll  be  an  angel  some- 
tune  ?  '' 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Lucy,  hesi- 
tatingly. "JThat's  as  much  as  to  say  she  ain't 
one  now,  an'  it  might  make  her  mad." 

"  I  thought  you  said  they  couldn't  be  angels 
till  they  died." 

"  So  they  can't ;  not  real  angels  ;  but  lots  of 
folks  think  they're  angels,  an'  sometimes,  if  any- 
one is  very  good,  they're  called  angels  before 
they  die.  Like  a  woman  that  used  to  live  in 
the  town  I  came  from ;  everybody  said  she  was 
an  anrjel." 


DORA  "  PATS''  DAISr.  109 

"  Then  how  would  it  do  to  cut  out  an  angel, 
an'  make  it  look  as  much  as  I  can  like  the  one 
I'm  going  to  give  it  to,  an'  put  her  name  on 
it?" 

"  She'd  like  that.  But  you're  not  going  to 
cut  an  angel  out  of  that  block,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.'-' 

**  That's  the  greatest  I  get  a  pig  half  made, 
then  make  it  into  an  angel ! " 

*'  The  pig  wasn't  half  made.  You  don't  know 
anything  about  it." 

"  I  know  that  if  the  one  you  give  the  angel  to, 
should  hear  how  it  was  made,  she'd  think  you 
meant  to  teU  her  she's  pig  inside,  an'  angel 
out." 

"  Lucy  Stone,  do  you  see  anything  about  that 
block  that  looks  like  a  pig  ? "  sai^  Dora,  her 
eyes  flashing. 

"  Not  a  thing  ;  I  only  see  a  hump." 

"  It's  nothing  but  a  block  of  wood,  is  it  ?  " 

"That's  aU." 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  make  an  angel  out  of 
that  block  of  wood,  an'  don't  you  dare  to  say 
anything  more  about  a  pig." 

Anne  was  not  at  all  satisfied  with  Maria 
Hurd   for   a  room-mate.     She  was  too  young  to 


110  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

talk  to,  and  too  lazy  to  be  any  help  at  all ;  so 
Anne  was  resolved  that  she  would  have  Lucy, 
with  her  good-natured  face  and  willing  hands 
back  again.  She  felt  quite  sure  that  she  could 
easily  induce  her  to  return,  for  by  this  time  she 
was  doubtless  tired  of  Dora,  and  her  disagreeable 
ways,  and  would  be  only  too  glad  to  leave  her, 
if  asked  to  do  so. 

"  She  must  be  getting  well  punished  for  going 
away,"  thought  Anne,  one  morning,  while  stand- 
ing before  the  glass,  combing  her  hair.  "  I  think 
I'll  let  her  stay  there  a  while  longer,  so  she'll 
get  enough  of  it.  Then  I'll  make  her  think 
that  I  don't  care  whether  she  comes  back  or 
not ;  but  if  she  really  wants  to  she  can,  I'll  tell 
her.  Then  won't  she  be  glad  enough  to  make 
the  bed  every  morning,  an'  sweep  out  the  room 
for  me.  In  the  meantime,"  continued  Anne  to 
herself,  casting  a  look  at  Maria,  who  was  seated 
upon  the  floor  tying  her  shoes,  and  looking  very 
sleepy,  indeed.  "  In  the  meantime  perhaj)s  I 
can  get  that  girl  to  do  something,  by  threaten- 
ing to  send  her  back  to  Dora  !  I  never  thought 
of  that,"  and  Anne  turned  from  the  glass  to  try 
the  experiment. 

"  Maria  ?  "     Maria  looked   up  without    speak- 


DORA  ''PAYS''  DAISr.  HI 

ing,  and   ■without   stopping    the    work    she    "was 
engaged  at. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  go  hack  to  Dora's 
room  ?  " 

"  ]\Iakes  no  odds  to  me  where  I  go."  replied 
Maria,  yawning  fearfuUy,  and  resting  her  chin 
on  her  knee  the  while. 

"  Which  do  you  like  the  best — me  or  Dora  ?  " 
"  Don't  like  neither  of  you  too  well." 
"  It  seems  as  though  you  might  teU  which  of 
us  you  like  best,  but  if  you   won't   then  which 
of  us  do  you  thiuk's  the  smartest  ?  " 

"  Dora,  by  a  long  chalk,"  replied  Maria, 
arising  to  -her  feet  and  walking  towards  the 
door, 

"  It's  a  waste  of  time  trying  to  talk  to  an 
idiot,"  observed  Anne,  contemptuously,  turning 
to  the  glass  again. 

"What's  an  idiot?"  questioned  Maria,  paus- 
ing. 

"  Look  in  the  glass,  an  you'll  see  one." 

"  I'm  looking,  but  I  only  see  your  face ! " 

"  Go    down   stairs,  if   you're    going  !     Do  you 

hear  ? "    and    Anne    stamped    smartly  upon    the 

floor.     Maria  opened  the  door  suddenly,  looking 

very  much    bewildered    at  the    tuin    affairs  had 


1 1 2  DAIS  r  TRA  VERS. 

taken,  and  there  stood  Dora,  and  Lucy,  laughing 
to  themselves.  Anne  no  sooner  saw  them,  than 
she  slammed  the  door  in  their  faces,  but  not 
before  Maria  had  time  to  get  out. 

"  See  here  Maria,"  said  Dora,  in  a  low  tone, 
taking  hold  of  Maria's  shoulder.  "  Just  say 
what  you  want  me  to  do  for  you,  an'  I'll  do  it, 
see'f  I  don't;  'cause  you  did  that  well,  you 
know  you  did." 

"  Let  me  alone,  can't  you  ? "  said  Maria, 
shrinking  away,  and  frowning.  "  I  ain't  done 
nothing  to  nobody,  an'  I  just  wish  folks  would 
let  me  alone." 

"Oh,  I'll  let  you  alone,  if  that's  all;  but 
3'^ou're  too  modest.  You  might  have  asked 
more,  an'  got  it." 

With  that  Dora  joined  Lucy,  laughing,  and 
they  went  down  stairs  together,  leaving  Maria 
.to  follow  at  her  pleasure. 

A  week  later  Anne  thought  it  was  time  to 
hint  to  Lucy  that  she  could  room  with  her 
again,  if  she  wanted  to,  and  was  not  a  little 
surprised  when  Lucy  refused  to  take  the  hint. 
But  after  thinking  awhile,  she  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  Lucy  was  angry  because  she  had 
not    asked  her  to  return  before.     "I  shan't  hint 


DORA  "  PA  rs  "  DAISr.  113 

to  her  again,"  said  slie  to  herself.  "  She'll  have 
to  come  to  me,  now,  an'  ask  me  to  let  her  come 
back :  that's  all  she'll  make  by  it,"  and  Anne 
thought,  with  satisfaction,  of  how  reluctantly  she 
would  appear  to  give  her  consent,  when  she 
should  ask  it  of  her. 

But  Anne  was  never  to  experience  that  grati- 
fication, for  a  wonderful  friendship  had  sprung 
up  between  the  two  girls,  since  Lucy  was  made 
aware  of  Dora's  changed  feeling  for  Aunt  Daisy ; 
and  the  knowledge  that  the  angel,  that  was  now 
nearly  completed  was  intended  for  Daisy,  kept 
Lucy  in  a  fever  of  anxiety  for  fear  it  would 
prove  a  failure  after  aU. 


8 


CHAPTER    VII. 

A   STJRPKISE  FOR   "AUNT   DAISY." 

|HERE,'  Lucy,  it  is  done  !  " 

"  All    done  ?     Let  me   see  it  now," 
and  Lucy    held    out    lier    hand    to 
receive  the  image  that  was  at  last  completed. 

"  It  don't  look  so  good  as  I  wanted  it  to," 
said  Dora,  with  a  sigh,  "  for  the  old  knife  got 
dull,  an'  I  didn't  have  anything  to  sharpen  it 
on.     But  I  guess  it'll  do." 

"  I  think  it  is  splendid !  an'  it  looks  ever  so 
much  like  Aunt  Daisy,  too ;  only  wasn't  it  too 
bad  that  knot  in  the  wood  happened  to  be 
there ;  it  nearly  spoilt  one  ear." 

"  Never  mind,  it  isn't  so  bad  as  though  it  had 
been  on  the  face." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  could   make   the   wings 
so  well,"    and    Lucy    scrutinized    first  one  wing, 
then  the  other,  while  Dora  watched  her,  with  a 
pleased  expression  upon  her  face. 
114 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  AUNT  DAIST.  115 

"  Oh,  that  was  easy  enough  to  do,"  said  she, 
"  I  remembered  just  how  my  old  crow's  wings 
looked,  you  see." 

"  Are  you  going  to  give  it  to  her,  to-day  ? " 

"Yes.  I  wish  I. had  a  box,  or  something  to 
put  it  in.  You  don't  know  of  anything,  do 
}■  ou  ?  'cause  I  don't  like  to  give  it  to  her  right 
out  plain." 

"  You  might  wrap  it  up  in  a  paper.  I've  got 
a  nice  white  piece  that  I'll  give  you,  that'll  be 
just  the  thing,"  and  Lucy  went  to  the  bureau 
where  she  kept  all  her  treasures,  for  the   paper. 

"  There  she  goes,  now ! "  exclaimed  Dora, 
glancing  out  of  the  window,  and  seeing  Daisy 
walking  down  the  road  away  from  Hive  Hall. 
"  If  we  could  only  give  it  to  her  now,  it  would 
be  "better'n  giving  it  where  all  the  children 
could  see  it,  an'  wonder  what  it  is." 

"  So  we  can.  Here's  the  paper :  hurry  up  an' 
do  it  up,  an'  run  down  with  it !  " 

Dora  took  the  paper,  and  wrapt  the  image 
in  it,  but  instead  of  going  down  to  give  it  to 
her,  she  sat  watching  her  retreating  form. 

"  Why  don't  you  go,  if  you're  going  ?  "  said 
Lucy,  giving  her  an  impatient  push. 

"  I  guess  I  won't  give  it  to  her,  after  all,  and 
Dora  began  to  unwrap  the  paper  from  the  image." 


116  DAISY  TRAVBRS. 

"  Not  give  it  to  her  ?     Why  ?  " 

^'  'Cause  she  might  think  I  was  making  fun 
of  her.  The  face  don't  look  much  better'n 
those  I  used  to  make  of  Mrs.  Hodges,  a'purpose 
to  make  her  mad." 

"  Dear,  me  !  Give  it  to  me,  an'  Til  give  it  to 
her,  an'  tell  her  'tain't  half  so  good  as  you  could 
have  done  if  the  knife  hadn't  been  dull,"  and 
before  Dora  could  hinder  her,  Lucy  was  down 
stairs,  and  out  in  the  street,  running  towards 
Daisy,  with  the  image  held  high  above  her 
head,  and  calling  *'  Aunt  Daisy !  Aunt  Daisy  !  " 
at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

Aunt  Daisy  stopped,  at  the  first  call,  and 
waited  for  the  round,  waddling  figure  to  come 
up  to  her,  and  presently  Lucy  stood  before  her, 
all  out  of  breath. 

"  There  !  "  ?aid  she  as  soon  as  she  could  speak, 
putting  the  image  in  Daisy's  hand.  "  There's 
something  Dora  made  for  you.  She  could  have 
made  it  ever  so  much  better,  only  the  knife 
got  dull,"  with  'that,  Lucy  turned  to  retrace  her 
steps,  without  waiting  to  hear  Daisy's  opinion 
of  it  ;  and  Dora,  watching  from  her  window, 
saw  Daisy  remove  the  paper  from  the  image, 
then  walk  slowly  on. 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  AUNT  DAIST.  117 

"  She  didn't  throw  it  away,  anyhow,  an'  she 
didn't  seem  to  act  as  though  she  was  mad ; 
maybe  she'll  hke  it,  after  all.  "What  did  she 
say  ?  "  continued  she,  aloud,  as  Lucy  entered, 
all  red  and  hot,  from  running. 

"  I  didn't  stop  to  hear.  I  was  afraid  Mrs. 
Burns  would  see  me,  an'  give  me  a  mark,  for 
going  away  without  permission. 

"  I  guess  she  wouldn't  give  you  a  mark  for 
going  that  little  distance,  to  speak  to  Aunt 
Daisy,"  replied  Dora,  in  a  disappointed  tone. 

"  How  would  she  know  how  far  I'd  been,  if 
she  saw  me  come  running  up  the  street." 

"  She'd  know  you  wouldn't  go  very  far,  with- 
out your  hat." 

"  I  didn't  think  of  that,"  replied  Lucy,  provoked 
at  her  own  dullness. 

"  Grandfather  Milly,"  said  Daisy,  as  soon  as 
she  reached  home,  to  that  old  gentleman,  who 
was  seated  on  the  piazza  trying  to  create  a  dis- 
turbance between  Bruno  and  puss,  by  drawing 
the  latters  unsheathed  claws  over  Bruno's  nose. 
"  Grandfather  Milly,  do  you  remember  how  yoxi 
laughed  when  I  ventured  to  say  that  one  of  my 
•pupils  might  prove  to  be  a  genius,  and  if  prop- 
erly educated  might  become  famous  I  " 


118  DAISY  TRA  VERS. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Don't  make  me  laugh  again, 
Daisy!  don't!" 

"  Then  jou  don't  believe  that  there's  one  born 
genius  among  my  twenty-five  scholars  ?  " 

"  You  haven't  discovered  one,  have  you  ?  "  for 
something  in  the  expression  on  Daisy's  face 
made  him  curious. 

"/should  call  the  one  that  made  that,  a  gen- 
ius," and  Daisy  put  the  image  in  grandfather 
Milly's  hand,  triumphantly. 

"  Did  one  of  the  children  make  this  ?  "  said 
he,  with  an  amused  smile.  "  An  angel,  with 
wings,  and  a  chignon.  Why,  I  believe  it  looks 
something  like  you,  Daisy ;  and  here's  your 
name  carved  in  at  the  bottom.  That's  what  I 
call  a  neat  compliment !  " 

"  My  name  isn't  there,  is  it  ? "  said  Daisy, 
taking  the  image  again.  "  Sure  enough  I  and  I 
believe  it  does  look  like  me.  Fur  a  minute 
Daisy's  eyes  twinkled  merrily ;  then  a  mist 
gathered  over  them,  so  that  she  could  scarcely 
see  the  image  in  her  hand. 

"Which  one  of  them  did  it;  I  don't  think  I 
could  guess,  if  I  were  to  try  ?  "  said  grandfather 
at   last,  breaking  the  reverie  she  had  fallen  into. 

"  I  know  you  couldn't  guess.     Dora  did  it." 

"  You  don't  mean  it  I  " 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  AUNT  DAISY.  119 

"  The  very  last  ono  you  woiild.  have  thought 
of,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  her !  send 
her  to  Italy  ?  "  and  Daisy  thought  the  old  man 
looked  very  much  as  though  he  was  laughing, 
now  ;  but  then  he  was  always  laughing. 

"  I'll  give  the  school  a  holiday,  to-morrow  and 
she  shall  go  with  me  to  Boston ;  and  I'll  take 
her  through  every  art  gallery  I  know  of.  Then 
I'll  buy  her  a  set  of  sculptor's  tools,  and  see  what 
she'll  do  with  them." 

The  next  morning  as  the  children  had  begun 
their  studies,  in  came  a  servant  from  Mr.  Milly's, 
with  information  that  Mrs.  Burns  was  to  give 
them  a  holiday,  and  that  Dora  Wentworth  was 
to  dress  herself  in  her  best,  and  return  with 
him. 

Lucy  followed  Dora  up  to  their  room  to  assist 
her  in  dressing. 

"What  do  you  suppose  it's  for?"  questioned 
Dora,  putting  on  her  best  dress  that  Lucy  got 
out  for  her,  and  which  she  had  never  had  occa- 
sion to  wear  before,  on  a  week  day. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  it's  for  !  Aunt  Daisy  was 
pleased  with  the  angel,  as  I  knew  she'd  be,  an' 
is  going  to  take  you  somewhere  to  have  a  good 


120  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

time.  I  never  was  so  glad  in  my  life ! "  and 
unseir.sh  Lucy  bustled  around,  helping  Dora. 

"  I  guess  I'm  glad,  too.  I  feel  just  as  I  did 
one  day  at  the  poor-house,  when  I  saw  a  hen's 
nest  with  fifteen  eggs  in  it,  then  slipped,  an' 
fell  in  it,  an'  smashed  urn  all." 

"  I  want  you  to  remember  everything  you  see, 
an'  do,  an'  have,  so  you  can  tell  me  all  about 
it,  as  soon  as  you  get  back." 

"I  wish  they'd  asked  you  to  go,  too." 

"  Dear  me !  why  should  they  ?  I  couldn't 
make  an  angel,  like  you  did,  if  I  should  try  till 
the  cows  came, home.  There!  now  you  are  all 
ready." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  strange,  at  all,  for  me  to  be 
dressed  up,  lately,"  remarked  Dora,  as  she  viewed 
herself  in  the  glass,  with  satisfaction.  "  I  wish 
crazy  Bet  could  see  me  now,  just  to  see  'f  she*d 
know  me.     I  know  she  wouldn't,  'less  I  spoke." 

Down  stairs  all  the  children  appeared  to  be 
delighted,  that  they  were  to  have  a  holiday, 
except  Anne,  Avho  could  not  understand  why 
Dora  was  to  go  to  Mr.  Milly's  house,  dressed 
in  her  best.  She  walked  up  and  down  the  hall, 
feeli'.ij  very  disagreeable,  till  the  two  girls  came 
down  stairs,  then,  as  soen  as  Dora  had  gone, 
she  flew  to  Lucy,  to  find  out  what  it  meant. 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  AUNT  DAIST.  121 

"  Why  in  the  world  did  they  send  for  her, 
Lucy  ?  I  should  think  she  was  going  to  be  pun- 
ished for  something,  only  they  wouldn't  want 
her  dressed  up  for  that." 

"  I  guess  Aunt  Daisy's  going  to  take  her 
somewhere  to  have  a  good  time,"  replied  Lucy. 

"  Take  Tier  somewhere  ?  Why,  she's  the  worst 
girl  in  school." 

*'  I  guess  not.  She  hasn't  done  anything  bad  for 
a  month,  an'  you  know  it,"  and  Lucy's  round 
eyes  almost  expressed  anger,  for  a  moment. 

"  What  of  that  ?     I  never  did  anything   bad." 

"  I  didn't  say  Aunt  Daisy's  going  to  take  her 
'cause  she's  been  good,  did  I  ?" 

"  Well,  what  is  she  going  to  take  her  for, 
then?  It  always  takes  you  an  hour  to  answer 
a  question." 

"  I  don't  think  Dora'd  like  to  have  me  tell 
you.  I'll  ask  her,  an'  if  she  says  she  doesn't 
care,  I'U  tell  you  all  about  it,  to-night." 

"  You  needn't.  If  you're  so  weak  that  you 
can't  answer  a  question  without  asking  '  Dora ' 
if  you  may,  you're  to^  be  pitied."  And  Anne 
walked  away,  unable  to  express,  in  her  move- 
ments, all  the  contempt  she  felt  for  poor  Lucy, 
who  looked  after  her,  wondering  why  she  wasn't 


122  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

as  good-natured   towards  her  as  she  used  to  be. 

About  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  Dora  returned 
and  hurried  up  to  her  room  with  a  good-sized 
bundle  under  her  arm.  At  a  sight  of  her  radi- 
ant face,  Lucy's  became  almost  as  radiant.  "  I 
knew  you'd  have  a  good  time,"  said  she. 

'■'■  K  good  time!  Oh,  Roily,  you  don't  know 
anything  about  it !  "  replied  Dora,  throwing  her 
bundle  on  the  bed,  and  taking  off  her  hat,  which 
Lucy  took,  and  put  away,  before  Dora  had  a 
chance  to  do  it  herself. 

"  I  know  I  don't ;  but  you're  going  to  tell  me 
all  about  it,  you  know." 

"  I  wish  I  could,  but  I  can't." 

"  Can't  ?  "  and  over  Lucy's  face  came  a  cloud 
of  disappointment. 

*'No.  How  could  I  tell  you,  so  you'd  see 
things  as  I  saw  them  ?  Oh,  Roily !  If  you 
could  have  seen  all  the  men,  an'  women,  an' 
children,  an'  dogs,  an'  horses,  an'  everything,  all 
carved  out  of  stone  that  I  saw  to-day,  you'd 
just  as  lives  be  blind  aU  the  rest  of  your  life,  I 
know  I  " 

Lucy  looked  doubtful. 

"  An'  angels  I  Roily  !  How  I  wished  I  could 
have  had  the  old  thing  I  made,  just  long  enough 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  AUNT  DAIST.  123 

to  smash  it.  But  that  ain't  the  best  of  it !  Aunt 
Daisy  said  maybe,  sometime,  I'd  be  able  to  make 
as  good  as  any  I  saw  to-day,  if  I'd  try ;  an'  I'm 
just  agoing  to  try,  see  'f  I  don't  I " 

"  Didn't  5'^ou  see  anything  else  ?  What's  in 
that  bundle  ?  "  questioned  Lucy. 

"  That's  what  I'm  to  try  with.  Did  yoii  ever 
see  anything  like  those !  "  and  Dora  untied  the 
bundle,  and  held  the  tools  before  Lucy's  won- 
dering eyes.  "  I  guess  I  can  do  a  little  better 
with  these,  than  I  could  with  your  knife.  Ah  ! 
Roily !  But  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your  knife,  I 
shouldn't  have  got  these,  that's  certain. 

Presently  she  dropped  the  set  of  tools  upon 
the  bed,  and  going  to  the  door,  opened  it,  just 
in  time  to  see  Anne  Porter  hurrying  from  it  to 
her  own  room. 

.  "  That  Anne  Porter  has  been  at  the  door, 
listening  all  this  time !  "  said  she,  to  Lucy,  as 
she  closed  the  door  again  and  returned  to  the 
tools.  "  Well,  I  guess  I  can  make  a  pig,  now 
an'  I'll  make  it  look  like  Anne  Porter,  too !  see 
»f  I  don't." 


CHAPTER   VIII.     -^ 

AWAEDING   THE   PRIZE. 

%li|P'p  jg^g^  ^jjg  long-talked-of  day  arrived,  in 
te|f  1H  which  the  four  prizes  were  to  be  awarded 
j  Vrr  to  the  four  most  deserving  children  at 
Hive  Hall. 

There  were  to  be  no  lessons  that  day,  and 
the  prizes  would  not  be  given  out  till  afternoon; 
so  the  children  had  ample  time  to  spare,  after 
donning  their  holiday  clothes,  in  which  to  dis- 
cuss among  themselves  the  prizes,  and  those  who 
would  be  most  likely  to  receive  them. 

One  of  the  boys,  Edgar  Ford,  the  best  scholar 
among  them,  was  sure  of  one  of  the  ships,  and 
his  face  was  radiant  in  consequence,  as  he 
walked  around,  trying  not  to  look  impatient. 

Anne,  too,  felt  almost  sure  of  receiving  a 
prize,  but  not  quite  sure  as  she  had  felt  a  month 
ago.  Who  would  take  the  prizes  for  good  beha- 
viour none  of  them  could  guess,  as  their  con- 
124 


AWARDING  THE  PRIZE.  125 

duct  had  been,  on  an  average,  about  the  same, 
excepting  Dora  ;  she  received  more  black  marks 
the  first  month  than  any  of  the  others  received 
in  the  whole  three. 

Never  was  the  sound  of  the  bell  so  welcome 
before,  as  it  was  when  Mrs.  Burns  rung  it  at 
two  o'clock,  to  call  all  the  children  to  their 
places  in  the  school-room. 

Grandfather  Mill}'  had  the  seat  of  honor  on 
the  platform,  and  Daisy  was  flitting  here  and 
there,  now  speaking  to  this  child,  now  to  that, 
and  now  to  Mrs.  Burns,  but  never  in  the  same 
place  longer  than  two  minutes  at  a  time.  While 
before  them  all,  on  the  teacher's  desk,  were  the 
two  handsome,  perfect  ships,  and  the  two  large, 
wax  dolls,  with  their  extra  dresses  packed  neatly 
away,  and  locked  up   in  the   trunk  beside   each. 

After  "a  few  words  from  Daisy,  to  the  schol- 
ars, Mrs.  Burns  proposed  to  read  the  names  of 
the  three  girls  that  had  gained  the  highest  per 
cent,  in  their  studies ;  and  taking  up  a  paper 
she  read  from  it  first  the  name  of  Anne  Porter, 
who  had  sixty-eight  per  cent.  Anne  looked 
important,  then  glanced  at  the  dolls  and  won- 
dered if  one  wasn't  a  little  better  than  the 
other,  and   hoped  she    would  get  the  best   one ; 


126  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

but  she  had  no  time  to  think  more  about  it,  for 
Mrs.  Burns  had  read  the  name  of  Dora  Went- 
worth,  who  had  seventy  per.  cent,  in  her  studies, 
"  How's  that,  Anne  Porker  ? "  was  Dora's 
inward  exclamation,  as  she  stole  a  side  glance 
at  Anne  to  see  what  effect  the  last  name  had 
upon  her,  but  Anne  had  suddenly  discovered  a 
long  scratch  on  her  desk  and  was  trying  to  rub 
it  out. 

*'  I  rather  'spect  neither  of  us'll  get  it,"  con- 
tinued Dora,  to  herself,  'cause  there's  another 
name  to  come  yet ;  but,  land  I  it's  all  the  same 
to  me,  so  long  as  I'm  two  ahead  of  3'ou,  Porker. 
Next  time  don't  tell  a  body  she  can't  do  a  thing 
till  she's  tried  to  do  it.  That's  the  greatest  I " 
exclaimed  she,  almost  loud  enough  to  be  heard, 
for  Mrs.  Burns  had  read  the  name  of  Ella 
Myers,  who  was  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  girl, ,  who 
had  never  mentioned  that  she  was  trying  for  a 
prize,  and  none  of  the  other  girls  had  ever  mis- 
trusted such  a  thing.  In  fact,  if  they  had  been 
asked,  any  day,  if  Ella  Myers  had  failed  that 
day,  they  could  not  have  told,  so  little  notice 
did  they  take  of  her,  and  of  what  she  did. 

"  Ella  Myers,"  said  Mrs.  Burns,  "  has  eighty- 
two  per  cent,  and  is  entitled  to  the  prize,  which 


A  WARDING  THE  PRIZE.  127 

she  will  please  come  and  receive."  EUa  walked 
up  to  the  teacher's  desk,  looking  very  red  in 
the  face,  indeed,  and  received  the  gaily  dressed 
doll,  with  its  trunk  full  of  clothes,  from  Aunt 
Daisy.  She  was  about  to  retm-n  to  her  seat, 
when  Mr.  MiUy  said :  "  I  make  a  move  that 
you  all  give  three  cheers  for  EUa  Myers ;  only, 
boys,  don't  be  noisy  about  it." 

The  boys  were  noisy  about  it,  but  no  one 
seemed  to  mind  it  much.  So  were  the  girls,  all 
but  Anne,  whose   lips  moved,  and  that   was  all. 

After  order  was  restored,  Mrs.  Burns  pro- 
ceeded to  read  the  names  of  the  three  girls 
whose  deportment  had  been  the  best.  Ella 
Myers  had  sixty-five  per  cent.,  Anne  Porter  had 
eighty-two,  and  Lucy  Stone  had  eighty-five. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Roily ! "  shouted  Dora, 
springing  to  her  feet,  as  soon  as  the  last  name 
with  its  per  cent,  was  read. 

"  Hush !  Dora  ;  all  in  good  time,"  said  Daisy, 
who  could  not  help  smiling  at  Dora's  impulsive- 
ness ;  while  the  boys  who  were  about  to  give 
the  cheers  at  her  bidding,  subsided,  with  a  laugh 
among  themselves. 

Then  Lucy  went  to  receive  her  prize,  very 
happy  indeed;  and  she  was  cheered  even  louder 


128  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

than  Ella  had  been,  because  she  was  more  of  a 
favorite,  and  because  the  boys  knew  it  was  now 
their  turn,  and  they  would  not  be  much  longer 
in  doubt  as  to  which  among  them  would 
receive  the  ships.  • 

.  For  the  first  prize  Mrs.  Burns  said  she  would 
only  read  one  boy's  name,  and  that  was  Edgar 
Ford,  who  had  ninety  per  cent.  All  the  other 
boys  were  so  far  behind  him,  she  was  ashamed 
to  read  their  names  with  their  per  cent.  So 
Edgar  went  to  receive  his  prize,  and  was  cheered 
as  he  deserved  to  be. 

The  other  prize  went  to  a  poor  pale-faced 
boy,  who  had  had  the  misfortune .  to  lose  one 
leg  ;  and  as  he  hobbled  up  to  receive  the  ship, 
his  face  glowing  with  pleasure,  not  one,  among 
them  all,  had  the  heart  to  envy  it  of  him. 

After  that  Daisy  told  them  that  three  months 
from  that  day  they  would  receive  four  more 
prizes ;  and  as  she  could  not  tell  what  each  one 
would  rather  have,  she  would  let  those  who 
earn  the  right  to  a  prize,  say  what  the  prize 
shall  be,  provided  it  does  not  exceed  in  value 
ten  dollars. 

To  make  the  day  still  more  pleasant,  and  one 
to    be    looked   forward    to,  she    had   provided   a 


A  WARDING  THE  PRIZE.  129 

basket  of  luscious  great  oranges,  which  she  now 
exposed  to  view.  Then  dismissing  the  children, 
each  was  supplied  with  one,  as  they  passed 
out. 

"  Well,  Roily,  you  got  a  doll,  after  all— didn't 
you  ?  "  said  Dora  to  Lucy,  as  the  two  went  up 
to  their  room.  -» 

"  Oh,  Dora,  I  never  expected  to  get  one,  and 
I'm  sure  I  shouldn't  have  got  this,  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you,  fixing  me  up  mornings." 

"  Anne  looked  blue,  didn't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It  was  too  bad,  wasn't  it,  that  she 
didn't  get  one,  when  she  was  trying  for  both  ?  " 

"Too  bad?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  It  served  her 
just  right,  I  think,  for  being  so  piggish." 

"  I  mean  to  tell  her  she  can  take  mine,  some- 
times, if  she  wants  to,  an'  will  be  very  careful 
of  it,"  said  Lucy,  putting  the  doll  on  the  bed, 
and  viewing  it  with  pride  «nd  satisfaction. 

"You  are  going  to  let  her  take  it?"  said 
Dora,  not  a  little  surprised. 

"  Yes.     Wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me  what  Vd  do.  But  1 11  tell 
you  what,  crazy  Bet  would  say  about  it  if  she 
was  here." 

"  What  would  she  say  ?  " 

"  Roily  !  Roily  !  don't  cast  pearls  before  swine  ! " 


130  DAIS  r  TR A  VERS. 

Lucy  looked  puzzled,  but  she  did  not  question 
her  meaning,  as  a  more  important  matter  sud- 
denly occurred  to  her. 

'*  Wasn't  you  trying  for  a  prize,  too,  Dora  ?  " 
interrogated  she. 

"Me?  Don't  think  it.  Wliat  I  was  trying 
to  do,  I  did.  I  only  wanted  to  convince  Anne 
Porker  that  she  isn't  so  much  smarter  than 
other  people." 

"You  don't  like  her  at  all,  do  you?" 

"I  like  her  better'n  she  likes  me,  to-day. 
I'm  just  as  sure  of  that,  as  I  am  that  that  doll's 
head'll  break  just  about  as  easy  as  you  can 
smash  an   egg.''* 

"  Oh  dear !  I  wouldn't  have  it  break  for  the 
world  !  "  and  at  the  thought,  Lucy  hfted  up  the 
doll,  and  made  a  softer  bed  for  it  on  the  pillow, 
while  Dora  took  out  her  tools,  and  began  to 
work." 

"  What  would  you  want  for  a  prize  the  next 
time  ?  "  said  she,  to  Lucy,  after  a  while. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  Lucy,  almost  drop- 
ping the  trunk  of  clothes  she  had  been  admir- 
ing, in  her  surprise  at  the  question.  "  I'm  not 
going  to  try  for  another  prize.  I've  got  all  I 
want  now.  I  couldn't  get  one  again,  neither, 
I  know ;    an'  if  I  could   I'd  feel  mean   to   take 


A  WARDING  THE  PRIZE.  131 

two    prizes,  when  the    other  girls    are  trying    so 
for  one." 

"  Well,  if  I  was  going  to  try  for  a  prize,  I'd 
try  for  something  that  was  alive.  Such  as  a 
bird,  or  a  dog,  or  monkey ;  something  that 
would  know  me,  an'  like  me." 

**  Then  I  know  what  you'd  better  try  for." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  A  parrot.  They're  just  the  funniest  birds 
you  ever  saw." 

"  I've  heard  of  them,  but  never  saw  one." 
Dora  had    learned  to    say  them,  instead  of  'um. 

"  I  saw  one,  once.  He  could  say  almost  any- 
thing, and  could  laugh,  an'  whistle  tunes." 

"  I  wonder  if  they  know  much  ?  " 

"  I  guess  they  do.  The  lady  that  owned  the 
one  I  saw,  used  to  have  a  woman  come  every 
week  to  do  the  washing ;  an'  she  always  used 
to  put  the  parrot  in  the  room  with  her,  so  he 
could  watch  her,  an'  tell  if  she  stopped  washing, 
and  wasted  her  time  ;  an'  he'd  always  tell  if  she 
did,  then  the  lady'd  get  another  woman  to  do 
her  washing." 

"  Like  as  not  he'd  lie  about  it,  just  for  the 
sake  of  seeing  a  new  face.  But  I'd  like  one, 
ever  so  much." 

"I  know  you  would." 


132  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  Wouldn't  I  make  it  call  pig !  pig !  pig ! 
every  time  Anne  Porker  went  by." 

*'  Dear  me  !  Dora,  you  are  always  thinking  of 
something  to  make  Anne  Porter  mad  !  I  wish 
you  wouldn't.  I  don't  see  how  you  can.  Ihate 
to  have  anyone  mad  with  me." 

"  Of  course  you  do.  That's  because  you're 
not  like  the  kind  of  an  animal  I'm  like.  'Spect 
I  must  be  like  a  porcupine,  but  you  are  just 
like  a  little  rabbit,  that  wouldn't  harm  anybody, 
an'  only  wants  to  get  out  of  everybody's  way; 
while  Pm  always  in  everyones  way,  an'  sure  to 
hurt  those  I  touch." 

"  You  never  hurt  me,"  said  Lucy,  with  a 
laugh. 

"  Of  .course  not,  'cause  you  never  gave  me  a 
chance.  Whoever  heard  of  a  porcupine  hurting 
a  rabbit.  The  rabbit  knows  enough  to  keep  out 
of  the  way  of  such  an   ugly  thing." 

"  Did  I  ever  keep  out  of  your  way  ?  " 

'•  No  ;  an'  it's  so  queer  you  don't,  I  believe 
it's  causing  my  quills  to  drop  out.  I'm  sure  I 
haven't  got  so  many  to  hurt  with,  as  I  used  to 
have,  before  I  knew  you.  If  I'm  with  you  much 
longer,  who  knows  but  they'll   all  go." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

PETS. 

p/    YEAR  had  passed  away  since  the  twenty- 
r?four  pauper  children  entered  Hive  Hall,  to 
1  ir|/  be    provided  for,  and  educated,  by  Daisy 
Travers. 

Every  .  three  months  four  prizes  had  been 
bestowed  on  them,  and  many  of  the  children,  in 
choosing  what  their  prize  should  be,  followed 
Dora  Wentworth's  example,  and  chose  pets. 
Some  of  the  animals  chosen  by  the  boys,  such 
as  rabbits,  and  Guinea  pigs,  multiplied  so  fast 
that  Daisy  thought  it  best  to  have  a  place  built 
for  them,  instead  of  having  each  boy's  room 
defiled  by  rude  boxes  containing  them.  So  a 
building  was  erected  in  the  yard,  half  of  which 
was  furnished  with  large,  wire  cages,  to  accom- 
modate the  boy's  pets  ;  while  the  other  half  had 
a  glass  roof,  and  was  furnished  inside  with  one 
wide  shelf,  which  was  partitioned  off  into  twelve 

133 


134  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

parts  by  wire  trellis- work,  and  each  girl  owned 
one  of  these  parts  for  her  own  plants,  which 
she  was  encouraged  to  care  for  to  the  best  of  lier 
ability. 

Opposite  the  flower-shelf,  the  day  our  story 
opens,  hung  four  canaries  which  four  of  the  girls 
had  been  fortunate  enough  to  secure  as  prizes, 
while  in  a  corner,  chained  to  a  cross-bar,  was  a 
green  parrot,  that  Dora  had  succeeded  in  win- 
ning. She  was  delighted  with  Polly,  at  first, 
and  spent  hours  trying  to  teach  her  to  talk ;  but 
Polly  seemed  adverse  to  talking  about  anything  but 
herself.  She  would  say  "  Polly  !  Pretty  Polly  ! 
Beau-u-u-tiful  Polly  ! "  and  "  How  do  you  do, 
Polly  ?  "  but  as  soon  as  Dora  would  try  to  teach 
her  the  name  of  Anne  Porter,  or,  as  she  tried 
to  make  Polly  say  it,  "  Anne  Porker  !  pig  !  pig  ! 
pig ! "  Polly  would  scream  fearfully,  and  she 
would  be  glad  to  desist,  though  she  never  quite 
gave  up  the  hope  of  teaching  her  it,  in  time. 

Anne  Porter  was  standing  very  near  Polly 
this  day,  tending  her  plants,  of  which  she  had 
some  very  fine  specimens,  when  three  little  girls 
entered,  and  going  up  to  her,  one  of  them  said  \ 

J*  Anne,  are  you  going  to  try  for  a  prize,  this 
time  ?  " 


PETS.  135 

"Of  course  I  am,"  replied  Anne,  transferring 
a  trowel-full  of  earth  from  a  basket  to  a  flower- 
pot. "  I'll  have  a  new  dress  this  time,  an'  a 
handsome  one,  too." 

"  A  dress  ?  Why,  we  can  have  all  the  dresses 
we  need,  without  getting  one  that  way." 

"  All  we  need,  perhaps,  but  not  all  we  want. 
I  want  to  dress  better  than  the  rest  of  the  girls, 
and  I'm  going  to,  too." 

"You  might  give  us  a  chance  to  get  a  priza 
this  time,  you've  had  so  many." 

"  I  don't  hinder  you.'* 

"  You  know  we  can't  get  one  if  you  big  girls 
try.  Dora  Wentworth,  an'  Lucy  Stone,  an'  Ella 
Myers  have  all  said  they  wouldn't  try  this  time, 
but  would  give  us  small  girls  a  chance." 

"  More  fools  they,"  said  Anne,  with  a  laugh, 
"  And  I'll  stand  all  the  better  chance  of  getting 
one  myself." 

"  Anne  Poster ! "  called  another  small  girl, 
looking  in  the  door-way  at  that  moment ;  she 
was  doubtless  on  ^e  errand  the  others  were. 

"  Anne  Porter  !  "  Polly,  at  the  sound  of  that 
name,  dropped  a  piece  of  bread  she  was  eating, 
and  held  her  head  on  one  side,  waiting,  perhaps, 
for  the  sentence  to  be  finished,  as   Dora   always 


136  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

finished  it ;  and  when  it  was  not,  thinking 
doubtless,  she  could  do  better  herself,  she  sud- 
denly screamed  out,  "  Anne  Porker !  pig  !  pig  I 
pig !  "  then,  elated  at  her  success,  she  uttered 
a  shrill  cry,  and  repeated  it  all,  just  as  Dora 
Wentworth  entered. 

"  You  taught  that  bird  to  say  that !  "  exclaimed 
Anne,  white  with  rage,  turning  to  Dora,  as  she 
entered. 

*'  PoUy  knows  a  thing  or  two,  without  being 
taught,"  replied  Dora,  with  a  smile  that  angered 
Anne  all  the  more. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  She  know's  the  right  time  to  say  the  right 
thing ;  or  she  knows  its  almost  dinner-time  !  an', 
as  I  often  give  her  a  little  piece  of  roast  pork 
at  dinner-time,  'cause  she  likes  it  so,  she  wants 
to  know  if  I've  got  '  any  pork,  eh  ?  pig,  pig, 
pig,'  that's  her  way  of  asking  for  it." 

"  There's  that  for  your  knowing  bird  !  "  and 
Anne  lifted  her  trowel  suddenly,  and  threw  it 
at  Polly,  cutting  short  what  .she  was  about  to 
say  into  "  Anne  Pork —  "  then  off  she  tumbled 
from  her  roost,  and  was  held  dangling  in  the 
air  by  her  chain. 

Dora  flew  to  Polly's  relief,  while  Anne,  hoping 


PETS.  137 

the  bird   would  die,  made   good   her   escape  but 
of  doors. 

"  Polly !  Polly !  pretty  Polly !  "  said  Dora 
holding  up  the  bird,  and  trying  to  undo  the 
chain,  at»the  same  time,  while  the  four  small 
girls  stood  around,  and  looked  on  without  saying 
a  word,  until  Dora  had  freed  the  parrot,  then 
one  of  them  ventured  to  ask  if  she  was  hurt. 

"I  guess  not  much,"  replied  Dora,  feeling  if 
there  were  any  broken  bones  ;  while  Polly  turned 
one  eye  up  to  look  in  her  face,  and  muttered 
faintly  "pretty  Polly." 

"  Yes,  you  are  a  pretty  Polly,  so  you  are. 
I'll  never  doubt  it  again,"  said  Dora,  then  she 
laughed  to  herself,  as  she  smoothed  down  the 
rumpled  feathers. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  Polly,"  said  Lucy 
Stone,  coming  in  at  that  moment,  her  round 
good-natured  face  all  of  a  glow,  as  it  almost 
always  was. 

"  I  say ! "  said  Dora,  addressing  the  small 
gu'ls,  "  will  you  four  run  out  a  little  while  ? 
Lucy,  an'  I  want  to  talk  together."  The  four 
small  girls  went  out  willingly  enough,  looking 
knowingly  at  each  other  the  while. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  questioned  Lucy,  as  soon  as 
they  had  gone. 


138  DAISY  TRA  VERS. 

"  Oh,  the  jolliesfc  news  ever  you  heard.  You 
know  what  I've  been  trying  to  teach  Polly  for 
so  long  ? " 

"About  Anne?" 

"  Yes.  She  said  it  off  to-day,  just  as  well  as 
I  could  say  it  myself;  right  before  Anne,  too. 
Wasn't  she  furious !  I  tried  to  convince  her 
that  Polly  was  talking  about  her  dinner,  but 
she  wouldn't  believe  it,  which  only  goes  to 
prove  she  is  a  pig,  or  she  wouldn't  be  so  sensi- 
tive about  it.  What  do  you  think  she  did  ?  she 
threw  her  trowel  at  Polly,  and  knocked  her  off 
the  roost  with  it.     Sweet-tempered,  isn't  she?  '* 

"  I'm  sorry  Polly  said  it,"  said  Lucy,  with  a 
very  serious  face. 

"  That's  like  you.  After  I  was  nearly  a  year 
teaching  her  to  say  it,  as  soon  as  she  does  say 
it,  you're  sorry." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  your  sake.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber how  you  couldn't  use  your  sculptor's  tools 
that  Aunt  Daisy  gave  you,  for  such  a  long  time, 
because  the  first  thing  you  carved  out  with  them 
was  a  pig,  with  Anne's  name  to  it,  which  you 
put  in  her  desk.  Like  as  not  Anne  will  make 
a  great  fuss  about  what  the  parrot  said,  and 
maybe  they'll  take  it   away   from   you,  an'  give 


PETS.  139 

it  to  one  of  the  boys,  because    you   teach   it   to 
say  such  spiteful  things." 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  that  much,  if  they  gave  it 
to  Edgar  Ford.  He'd  enjoy  hearing  Polly  say 
it,  quite  as  much  as  I  would,"  replied  Dora, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Dora  Wentworth ;  teacher  wants  to  see  you ! " 
said  a  little  girl  putting  her  head  in  at  the  door. 

"  There  !  I  told  you  so  !  "  exclaimed  Lucy, 
in  a  voice  of  dismay. 

*'  She  didn't  let  grass  grow  under  her  feet 
that  time,  that's  a  fact.  Don't  turn  gray  on 
my  account,  Roily,  till  I  get  back  ;  an'  keep  an 
eye  on  Polly,  will  you  ?  Some  stray  pig  might 
come  along,  an'  eat  her;  pigs  will  eat  anything, 
you  know,"  with  that  Dora  followed  the  small 
messenger  to  Mrs.  Burns  the  teacher. 

Half  an  hour  later  she  returned. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Lucy,  questiouingly. 

"  WeU ! "  rephed  Dora,  "  they're  going  to 
send  Polly  to  Boston,  to-morrow,  and  change 
her  for  a  parrot  that's  not  so  highly  educated. 
Anne  Porker  knows  it,  an'  she's  going  'round, 
smacking  her  lips,  as  though  she'd  just  swal- 
lowed a  fine  mess  of  swill.  Just  wait  till  I 
think  how  I'U  be  even  with  her." 

"  Oh,  Dora,  I  do  wish  you'd  let  it  drop,  where 


140  DAISr  TRAVBRS, 

it  is,  and  not  try  to  be  even  witli  her  again. 
Every  bit  of  trouble  you  have  is  caused  by  that 
—  trying  to  be  even  with  Aer.  I  don't  think 
she  was  so  much  to  blame  to-day.  K  it  hadn't 
been  for  what  you  taught  Polly  there  wouldn't 
have  been  any  trouble." 

"  How  did  she  know  PoUy  meant  her.  I 
explained  it  to  her,  good-natured  enough,  but 
she  wouldn't  believe  me.  If  I  was  to  blame, 
why  didn't  she  throw  the  trowel  at  me  ?  Then 
I  could  have  caught  it,  an'  thrown  it  back  at 
her,  for  her  to  catch,  an'  throw  again.  We 
might  have  played  trowel,  till,  like  as  not,  we 
became  the  best  of  friends.  Instead  of  that  she 
must  throw  it  at  Polly,  who  wasn't  a  bit  to 
blame,  then,  thinking  she  might  have  hurt  her, 
an'  I  would  tell,  she  must  rush  and  tell  her 
story  first,  so  as  to  get  all  the  blame  on  me. 
I'll  get  an  ugly,  green  toad,  an'  put  it  in  her 
bed,  see'f  I  don't ! .  Won't  she  squeal  when  she 
lies  down  on  it ! " 

"  If  you  do,  everyone  wiU  know  you  did  it, 
an'  you'll  only  be  punished  for  it.'* 

"  I  s'pose  every  one  would  know  I  did  that,'* 
replied  Dora,  thoughtfully,  "  but  never  mind,  I'll 
think  of  something." 

"  Dora." 


PETS.  141 

"  Well,  R0II7,  have  you  thought  of  something 
to  save  me  the  trouble?     That's  good   of  you." 

"  Do  you  remember  once  of  calling  yourself  a 
porcupine,  with  quills  to  hurt  every  one  that 
came  near  you  ?  And  you  said  I  had  caused 
some  of  your  quills  to  drop  off.  How  I  wish 
they  would  all  drop  off,  then  you  couldn't  hurt 
yourself;  for  you  do  hiurt  yourself  more  than 
anyone  else,  Dora." 

"  Now  you're  talking,  Roily.  Whoever  heard 
of  a  porcupine  without  any  quills !  I'd  want 
one  to  defend  myself  with." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I've  been  thinking  of, 
Dora.  I'll  let  you  have  one  quill  to  defend 
yourself,  if  you'll  let  me  pull  all  the  others  out," 
said  Lucy,  her  face  radiant  with  a  new  idea. 

"  How'll  you  go  to  work  to  do  that  ?  "  inter- 
rogated Dora,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Why,  every  time  you  are  going  to  do  some- 
thing that  you  really  ought  not  to,  you  know, 
I'll  get  you  to  promise  me  that  you  won't  do  it, 
an'  I'll  call  that  pulling  out  a  quill.  Now,  if 
you'll  promise  not  to  trouble  Anne  for  what  she 
did  to-day,  that  will  be  the  first  one  out." 

"  Pulling  that  one  out  would  hurt  hke  sixty. 
I  guess  you'U  have  to  call  that  the  quill  that's 
going  to  stay  in." 


142  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

Dora's  room,  at  Hive  Hall  now  presented  a  dif- 
ferent appearance  than  it  did  a  year  ago.  Then 
there  was  no  way  of  distinguishing  it  from  the 
sleeping  apartments  of  the  other  children,  now, 
every  available  place  in  it  was  adorned  with  some 
figure  or  figures  carved  from  wood  or  plaster, 
by  Dora ;  while  upon  the  window-seat,  where 
she  had  just  been  admiring  it,  was  a  nearly 
completed  statuette,  which  was  intended  to  rep- 
resent Una  and  the  lion. 

This  Dora  considered  her  great  triumph.  She 
had  tried  to  make  it  as  near  like  one  she  had 
seen  in  Boston,  as  possible,  and  she  felt  sure 
she  had  succeeded  well ;  though  a  critic  would 
doubtless  have  said  the  lion  looked  more  like  a 
Newfoundland  dog,  and  Una  resembled  too 
strongly  the  wash-woman  style  of  beauty  to  be 
interesting.  Nevertheless  Dora  was  proud  of  it, 
and  so  was  Lucy,  her  friend  and  room-^mate ; 
and  so,  also,  was  Aunt  Daisy,  who  watched 
Dora's  sculptural  attempts  with  interest. 

Dora  was  now  standing  before  the  bureau  in 
her  room,  from  the  open  drawer  of  which  she  had 
just  taken  a  clean  linen  collar  to  wear  with  her 
best  dress  ;  for  it  was  Sunday  morning,  and  she 
was  preparing  to  go  to  church. 


PBTS.  143 

Every  once  in  a  while  she  -would  cast  a  sat- 
isfied glance  towards  Una. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it,  when 
it's  done?"  questioned  Lucy,  looking  over  the 
top  of  the  towel  she  was  rubbing  her  round 
face  with,  and  trying  to  wink  and  blink  out 
the  soap-suds  she  had  got  in  her  eyes.  "  You'll 
have  to  take  down  Spring,  an'  put  it  up  there,'* 
and  Lucy  looked  at  a  small  bracket  in  a  corner, 
on  which  was  a  wooden  figure  of  a  girl  very 
plentifully  supplied  with  flowers. 

"  I've  been  thinking  I'll  give  it  to  Aunt 
Daisy,  she  Ukes  it  so  well ;  an'  I  haven't  given 
her  anything  since  I  gave  her  the  angel," 

"  Dear  me  ;  I  wish  I  could  make  something 
to  give  her,  too." 

"  Why  don't  3'ou  embroider  a  handkerchief 
or  something,  an'  give  it  to  her.  I  should  think 
you  might ;  you  can  sew  better  than  any  girl  in 
school. 

"  Don't  you  say  a  word,  an'  I'll  do  it !  "  ejac- 
ulated Lucy,  joyfully.  "  I've  got  a  bran-new 
handkerchief  of  my  own,  that  I  can  take,  an' 
I  can  get  embroid'ry  cotton  from  Mrs.  Burns; 
she  uses  lots  of  it.  You're  the  best  girl  ever  I 
saw  to  think  of  things." 

'*  You  like  to  sew,  don't  you  ?  " 


144  DAIS  r  TRA  VERS. 

**  Of  course  I  do.  I'd  rather  sew  than  do 
anything." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  like  it.  The  idea 
of  picking  away  at  soft  cloth.  If  it  was  some- 
thing hard,  now,  like  wood  or  stone,  there 
wouldn't  be  so  much  wonder.  I  rather  guess 
Anne  Porker  won't  be  at  church  to-day,"  con- 
tinued Dora,  with  a  meaning  smile. 

"  Why  do  you  guess  that  ?  This  pleasant  day, 
too  I  Catch  her  to  stay  away  if  she  could. 
Besides,  don't  you  know  she's  got  a  new  hat  ? 
Made  it  all  herself.  She  asked  Aunt  Daisy  for 
some  ribbon  an'  roses,  then  she  made  just  such 
a  hat  out  of  hers,  as  she  saw  in  a  shop  window 
in  the  village.     I  teU  you  it's  gay." 

"  For  all  that,  Lucy,  you  can  take  my  word 
for  it,  she  won't  be  at  church  to-day,  or  if  she 
is  there,  she'll  look  mad." 

"  Oh,  Dora !  you  haven't  done  anything  to 
her,  have  you,  on  account  of  the  parrot  ? " 
questioned  Lucy,  her  face  growing  suddenly 
sober. 

"  No,  I  haven't  done  anything  to  lier :  though 
I'm  tempted  to,  everytime  I  think  of  poor  Polly, 
and  look  at  the  old  parrot  I've  got  now,  that 
can't  do    anything    but  bark  like  a  poodle  dog. 


PETS'  145 

If  he'd  only  grunt   like    a    hog,  instead,  there'd 
be  some  fun  in  it." 

"  Then  what  makes  you  think  she  won't  be  at 
church  ?  " 

"  I  dreamed  she  wouldn't :  that's  all." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  returned  innocent  Lucy 
re-assured,  "  I  often  dream  dreams  that  don't 
come  true,  in  fact  I  don't  believe  I  ever  dreamed 
one  that  did  come  true." 

Half  way  to  church  Dora  stopped  short,  and 
stood  irresolute. 

"  What  are  you  stopping  for  ?  "  interrogated 
Lucy,  who  was  walking  beside  her. 

"  Una !  I  left  her  on  the  window-seat,  an' 
the  window's  open.  You  don't  suppose  she'll 
fall  out,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not ;  how  can  she !  unless  the 
lion  should  take  a  notion  to  roar,  an'  frighten 
her,"  replied  Lucy,  with  a  laugh. 

While  Dora  and  Lucy  were  dressing  them- 
selves for  cliurch,  Anne  and  her  room-mate, 
Maria  Hurd — were  going  through  the  same  per- 
formance. 

"  I  don't  believe  the  people  at  church,  to-day, 
will  think  I  belong  to  this  school,  when  they 
come  to  see  me  with  my  new  hat  on,"  said  Anne, 


146  DAISr  TRAVERS, 

pinning  on  a  pink  bow,  and  arranging  it  to  suit 
her. 

Maria,  who  never  had  much  to  say,  made  no 
reply,  and  Anne  having  arranged  the  -bow  to  her 
satisfaction,  took  down  from  a  shelf  the  box 
that  contained  her  new  hat. 

"  O  !  goodness  me  !  what's  in  it !  "  ejaculated 
she,  after  having  placed  the  box  on  a  chair,  and 
removed  the  cover. 

"  What  is  in  it  ? "  questioned  Maria,  with 
more  curiosity  than  she  usually  exhibited. 

"  O,  I  don't  know  !  Some  dreadful,  horrid 
things  ;  just  look." 

"  Why,  them's  young  rats  !  "  exclaimed  Maria, 
who  had  no  idea  of  grammar,  on  seeing  what 
was  in  the  hat. 

"  Rats  !  "  screamed  Anne. 

"  Yes.  I  don't  believe  they're  a  week  old 
yet ;  see,  their  eyes  ain't  open. 

"  O,  goodness  me !  how  could  they  get  in 
there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  'spect  there  must  be  an  old 
rat  in  the  room,  somewhere,  an'  she  made  her 
nest  in  your  hat ;  like  as  not  she's  "  under  the 
bed  or  bureau,  now.  No,  she  ain't,  neither," 
continued  Maria,  after  a  careful  search.  "  'Spect 
she  must  have  gone  out  of  the  door." 


PETS.  147 

"  Oh  !  dear,  dear  I  I'm  afraid  they  v'e  spoilt 
my  hat !  What  shall  I  do  with  the  horrid 
things,  they'd  ought  to  be  killed." 

"  Tip  them  into  the  box-cover,  an'  I'll  take 
them  up  in  the  attic.  There's  a  nest  up  there, 
with  four  more  in  it,  just  like  these  ;  I  found 
it  yesterday,  an'  was  going  to  tell  the  house- 
keeper about  it,  but  forgot  it.  I'll  put  there 
these  along  with  them  up  there,  an'  tell  her 
to-morrow." 

"  There  they  are !  Take  them  away ! " 
exclaimed  Anne,  tossing  them  into  the  box- 
cover,  where  they  immediately  began  to  kick 
and  squirm. 

"I'm  afraid  my  handsome  new  hat  is  spoilt !" 
said  Anne,  to  herself,  as  soon  as  Maria  had  left 
the  room.  "  There's  a  great  stain  on  the  rib- 
bon just  where  it  will  show.  Oh,  dear !  I 
shall  have  to  have  more  ribbon,  an'  make  it  all 
over  again.  I  can't  go  to  church  to-day,  that's 
certain."  And  tears  of  vexation  gathered  in 
Anne's  eyes,  as  she  pulled  the  trimming  off  the 
hat  before  putting  it  away. 

"  It's  the  curiousest  thing  ever  I  saw ! " 
exclaimed  Maria,  re-appearing.  "  Those  four 
young   rats  I  saw  up   in  the  attic  yesterday  are 


148      "  DAISY  TRA  VERS. 

gone,  an'  I'll  bet  those  that  were  in  your  hat 
are  the  same  ones." 

"  What ! "  ejaculated  Anne,  sharply,  a  sus- 
picion of  the  truth  beginning  to  dawn  in  her 
mind.     "  How  could  they  get  in  my  hat  ?  " 

"  Like  as  not  one  of  the  girls  found  them, 
an'  put  them  in  for  fun." 

"  Well,  if  that's  how  they  came  there,  you 
can  just  remember  its  all  your  fault,  Maria  Hurd, 
that  my  hat  is  spoilt.  You  should  have  killed 
them  when  you  saw  them,  or  else  told  Mrs. 
Shote,  so  she  could  have  had  them  killed. 
Hurry  up,  an'  go  to  church.  I  don't  want  to 
see  you  again  to-day." 

"  Served  her  right  if  her  hat  is  spoilt !  "  mut- 
tered Maria  to  herself,  as  she  went  down  stairs. 
"  The  old  cross-patch  !  guess  she  can  take  care 
of  her  rats  herself,  another  time." 

Anne  remained  iu  her  room  until  every  one 
in  the  house  had  gone  to  church,  then,  after 
waiting  a  while  to  make  sure  none  would  return 
for  anything,  she  sought  Dora's  room. 

"  Did  finy  one  ever  see  such  a  mess  of  rub- 
bish !  "  said  she,  to  lierself,  on  entering,  looking 
with  contempt  on  Dora's  statuettes.  "  Ah,"  con- 
tinued she,  to  herself,  going  to  the  window,  and 
taking   up  "  Una   and   the    Lion,"   "  thin  is   the 


PETS.  149 

one  I  heard  her  talking  about.  She's  been  a 
long  time  working  on  this.  How  careless  of 
her  to  leave  it  on  the  window-seat,  just  where 
the  least  touch  would  knock  it  out  and  break  it. 
I  mean  to  see  just  how  easy  it  will  fall  out." 
Then  placing  it  where  it  was  before,  she  gave 
it  a  slight  push,  and  watched  it  as  it  fell  to  the 
ground,  where  it  broke  in  many  pieces. 

"  There !  "  said  she,  as  she  started  to  return  to 
her  own  room.  "  It's  my  opinion  she'll  be 
longer  putting  that  together,  than  I'll  be  fixing 
my  hat." 

"  Why,  Roily,"  exclaimed  Dora,  on  her  return 
from  church,  "  you  put  Una  away,  didn't  you, 
after  all?  That  was  good  of  you  when  I  for- 
got it ;  but  it  gave  me  such  a  start  not  to  see 
it  on  the  window-seat  when  I  came  in." 

"  Put  it  away  ?  "  repeated  Lucy,  looking  over 
Dora's  shoulder  as  she  entered,  her  round  eyes 
very  round  indeed.     "I  didn't  touch  it!" 

"You  didn't?  Then  that  Anne  Porker  has 
got  it,  an'  has  hid  it  out  of  spite  ;  there  was  no 
one  else  to  take  it,  an'  it  couldn't  go  without 
hands.  I'll  have  it  again,  if  it's  in  her  room, 
as  soon  as  she  goes  down  to  dinner ;  an'  I  won't 
mind  rumpling  up  her  things  much,   either." 

"  Perhaps    it    fell    out  of    the    window,    said 


150  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

Lucy,  as  she  went  to  the  window  and  looked 
out.  "  Oh,  Dora,  it's  down  there,  all  broken  to 
smash  !  " 

"  Don't  say  so,  Roily !  it's  something  else  you 
see  I  threw  a  lot  of  plaster  out  there  yester- 
day ;  "  but  nevertheless  Dora  went  to  the  win- 
dow and  looked  out,  to  be  sure  Lucy  was 
wrong.  A  moment  was  long  enough  to  con- 
vince her  she  wa^s  not ;  then  she  drew  in  her 
head,  and  sank  down  in  a  chair,  without  a  word. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,  Dora  I  "  said  Lucy,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes.  "  If  I  had  only  thought  to  put  it 
away  for  you  I  " 

"  Never  mind.  Roily,  you're  not  to  blame. 
That's  my  pay  for  taking  it  out  on  Sunday. 
Aunt  Daisy  told  me  never  to  touch  my  work  on 
Sunday,  an'  I  never  did  before." 

"It  won't  take  you  so  long  to  do  another^like 
it,  will  it?"  "^ 

"  I'm  not  going  to  do  another  one  like  it. 
I  couldn't.  I  shouldn't  feel  as  I  did  when  I 
was  making  that."  *^ 

"  You  think  so  now,  but  in  a  day  or  two  I 
know  you  '11  think  differently.  Why,  this  is  just 
like  what  Anne  put  in  her  new  hat !  "  exclaimed 
she,  stooping  down,  and  picking  up  an  artificial 


PETS.  151 

flower.  The  next  moment  she  could  have  bit 
her   tongue  for  saying  it. 

"  So  she  was  in  here,  an'  did  it,  after  all.  I 
thought  it  was  strange  it  could  fall  out  with- 
out help,"  said  Dora,  her  eyes  flashing. 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  don't  believe  she  was  in  here, 
and  I'm  sure  she  wouldn't  do  anything  so  mean 
as  that,"  said  the  little  peace-maker.  "  It  might 
liave  been  in  the  entry,  and  we  might  have 
brought  it  in  on  our  dresses,  you  know." 

*'  Humbug  I  what's  the  use  of  saying  that 
when  you  know  better !  " 

"  Have  you  done  anything  to  her  since — since 
Polly  was  taken  away  ?  " 

"  Nothing  to  deserve  such  mean  treatment  in 
return." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  '* 

"I  put  some  young  rats  in  her  new  hat.  I 
donh;  Tbelieve  they  hurt  it  any,  an'  if  they  did, 
it  could  be  easily  fixed.  It  isn't  as  though  it 
took  months  to  make  a  hat." 

"^Oli,  Dora,  I  told  you  not  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  her,  but  you  wouldn't  heed 
me.     You  always  get  the  worst  of  it." 

"  We'll  see  who  gets  the  worst  of  it  the  next 
time,"  replied  Dora,  quite  frightening  poor  Lucy 
with  her  earnestness. 


CHAPTER    X. 

A   GIPSY   FORTUNE-TELLER. 

WEEK  passed  by,  and  Dora  still  mourned 
the  loss  of  her  statuette,  and  grew  morose 
and  unlike  herself,  because  she  had  no 
opportunity  to  satisfy  her  desire  to  "be  even" 
with  Anne,  in  all  that  time. 

Lucy  had  done  her  best  to  discourage  her  in 
her  design,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  Aunt  Daisy 
was  grieved  on  learning  that  the  statuette  was 
broken,  but  had  no  suspicion  of  the  cause 
of  its  destruction,  for  Dora  and  Lucy  had  kept 
the  secret  so  well,  that  even  Anne  felt  quite 
sure  she  was  not  suspected. 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon.  Hive  Hall  was 
nearly  deserted,  for  all  the  children  but  Anne 
and  Dora  had  gone  on  a  picnic  in  the  woods. 
Anne  had  remained  behind  to  trim  her  hat,  and 
make  it  even  "  handsomer  than  it  was  before," 
as  she  said  to  herself ;  while  Dora  remained 
152 


Tin;  Gypsey  Fortcnk-Tellek.  —  Page  153. 


A  G IPS r  FORTUNE-TELLER.  153 

because  she  knew  she  would  not  enjoy  herself 
with  the  other  children,  if  she  went,  and  pre- 
ferred to  he  by  herself. 

She  had  wandered  about  aimlessly,  feeling 
very  disagreeable,  indeed,  the  most  of  the  after- 
iioon,  and  was  now  standirng  by  the  gate,  at  the 
entrance  of  Hive  Hall,  looking  up  the  way,  to 
catch  the  first  view  of  the  children  when  they 
should  return. 

So  busy  was  she  with  her  thoughts  that  she  did 
not  hear  steps  approaching  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, and  could  have  screamed  with  fright  when 
a  harsh,  disagreeable  voice  close  to  her  ear,  said: 

"  Give  me  money,  money,  in  my  hand,  little 
girl,  an'  I'll  tell  your  fortune!"  Dora,  turning 
quickl}^  beheld  the  most  repulsive  looking  gipsy 
woman  she  had  ever  seen.  She  was  large  and 
angular,  with  a  face  that  expressed  wickedness, 
avarice  and  cunning. 

"  I  haven't  any  money ! "  replied  Dora  shortly. 

"  No  money  !  an'  live  in  such  a  nice  house  as 
that!     You  can  get  some  if  you   try,  I   know." 

"No  I  can't.  Aunt  Daisy  never  gives  us 
money.  She  buys  everything  we  need,  for  us, 
herself." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  can't  give  me  money,  I'll 


154  DAIS  r  TEA  VERS. 

take  clothes  instead.  Come,  now,  I  know  you've 
got  a  dress  that  you'd  give  me,  for  the  sake  of 
having  your  fortune  told.  A  fine  fortune  yours 
will  be,  but  I'll  not  tell  a  word  till  you  give 
something." 

"I- wouldn't  dare  to  give  my   dresses   away." 

"  You  don't  look  to  be  such  a  coward.  Well, 
then,  a  pair  of  shoes  would  do,  or  a  hat." 

"  Or  a  hat !  "  what  a  thrill  as  those  words 
passed  through  Dora's  frame. 

"  I  haven't  got  any  to  give  away,"  said  she, 
after  a  minute's  pause."  But  there's  a  girl  up 
at  the  Hall,  there,  that  has  just  finished  a  hand- 
some hat,  an'  you  can  get  it,  if  you  want  it." 

"WiU  she  give  it  to  me,  if  I  tell  her  for- 
tune ?  " 

"  No,  she  wouldn't  give  it  to  you,  because 
she  thinks  too  much  of  it,  but  you  could  take 
it,  couldn't  you  ?  "  returned  Dora,  avoiding  the 
gipsy's  sharp  eyes. 

"  Ah,  I  understand,"  replied  the  gipsy,  with 
a  satisfied  chuckle.  "  She  is  a  bad  girl,  an'  has 
wronged  you  ;  an'  to  punish  her  you  want  her 
to  lose  her  hat.  That  is  good  !  Where  shall  I 
find  her?" 

Dora  looked  towards  Hive  Hall.     Mrs.  Shote, 


A  GIPSr  FORTUNE-TELLER.  155 

the  housekeeper  was  in  her  own  room,  seated 
by  the  window,  sewing.  To  approach  the  house 
by  the  front  way^  without  being  seen  by  her, 
would  be  impossible. 

"  You  will  have  to  go  up  the  drive-way  and 
'round  the  house  to  the  back.  I  will  be  at  the 
back  door  to  let  you  in." 

"  Will  there  be  anybody  there  ? "  said  the. 
gips}-,  hesitating. 

"  There  is  no  one  in  the  house  but  Mrs. 
Shote,  there,  an'  the  girl,  who  is  in  another 
part  of  the  house.  You  can  get  out  of  the  way 
before  she  can  let  Mrs.  Shote  know,  if  you  are 
smart." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  her  letting  Mrs.  Shote 
know  for  a  while  when  I'm  done  with  her," 
replied  the  gipsy,  looking  very  much  gratified, 
Dora  thousrht. 

"  You  will  not  harm  her  ?  "  said  she  growing 
suddenly  suspicious.  "  I  will  not  let  you  in, 
unless  you  promise  you  will  not  harm  her." 

"  I  won't  hurt  her.  I'll  have  to  gag  her,  an' 
tie  her,  for  it  wouldn't  be  well  for  me  to  get 
caught  taking  her  hat !  "  with  that,  the  gipsy 
turned,  and  walked  up  the  way,  with  quick, 
long    steps,  as    though   impatient  to    begin    the 


156  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

undertaking.  Dora  watched  her  for  a  moment, 
feeling  not  wholly  satisfied  with  what  she  was 
about  to  do,  then  she  walked  slowly  towards 
the  house,  entered,  and  passed  through  it  to  the 
back  door;  on  opening  that,  there  stood  the 
gipsy  on  the  step. 

"  I  was  here  before  you,  after  all,"  said  she 
with  a  leer. 

"  You'll  have  to  hurry.  The  whole  school  will 
return  in  a  minute,"  said  Dora,  for  the  gipsy 
did  not  seem  in  a  hurry  now,  but  flashed  her 
sharp  eyes  here  and  there,  in  a  manner  that 
puzzled  Dora  exceedingly.  Nothing  seemed  too 
small  for  her  notice.  Even  the  locks  to  the 
doors  and  windows  were  scrutinized.  After  a 
while  her  curiosity  seemed  to  be  satisfied,  and 
she  followed  Dora,  who  ascended  the  stairs,  and 
designated  Anne's  room  by  a  gesture  ;  then  after 
the  gipsy  entered  it,  she  hurried  down  stairs 
again,  and  stood  waiting  in  the  entry  for  her  to 
return. 

Anne  had  just  finished  trimming  her  hat,  and 
was  holding  it  out  at  arm's  length,  to  admire  it, 
when  the  gipsy  entered. 

"  Who  are  5'^ou  ?  an'  what  do  you  want  here  ?  " 
said  she,  as  soon  as  her  astonishment  would 
allow  her  to  speak. 


A  GIPSr  FORTUNE-TELLER.  157 

"  I  want  to  tell  your  fortune,  little  girl.  Give 
me  some  money,  an'  I'll  teU  it  for  you,"  replied 
the  gipsy,  going  towards  her. 

"  I  haven't  any  money."  said  Anne,  rising 
from  her  seat,  and  moving  towards  the  door. 

"No  money?  well,  I'll  make  something  else 
do,  then.  Give  me  that  dress,  hanging  there 
an'  I'll  tell  it  for  you,"  said  the  gipsy,  moving 
herself  towards  the  door,  and  placing  her  hand 
on  the  knob. 

"  That's  my  best  dress.  I  couldn't  give  it 
away  if  I  wanted  to,  which  I  don't,"  replied 
Anne,  decisively. 

"  That  hat  that's  in  your  hand,  then.  I  tell 
you  you  won't  have  another  chance  to  know 
what  the  future  has  in  store  for  you ;  whether 
you'll  be  rich  or  poor,  high  or  low.  Ah,  I  see 
you've  changed  your  mind,  an'  will  give  me  the 
hat." 

"No  you  can't  have  this  hat!"  said  Anne, 
putting  it  behind  her,  for  the  gipsy  had  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  receive  it.  "  But  you  can  have 
those  stockings  on  the  bureau  there,  if  you'll 
tell  it  for  that." 

"  Stockings  ?  well  sit  down  in  that  chair,  an' 
I'll  tell  it  for  you,"  replied  the  gipsy,  taking  the 


158  DAISr  TRA  VERS. 

stockings,  while  Anne  sat  down,  feverish  with 
curiosity  and  expectation. 

"  You  can't  have  that,  too  !  "  exclaimed  she, 
for  the  gipsy  had  taken  her  skipping-rope  from 
a  nail,  where  it  was  hanging. 

"  I  sha'n't  keep  it.  I  want  it  but  a  minute " 
replied  the  gipsy,  then  like  a  flash  the  stockings 
were  forced  into  Anne's  mouth,  and  she,  strug- 
gling and  unable  to  scream  for  assistance,  was 
tied  hand  and  foot,  then  lashed  to  the  chair. 

"  Your  future  is  soon  told,"  said  the  gipsy, 
bending  over  her  with  a  leer  as  soon  as  she  was 
secured."  You'll  always  be  unfortunate,  but 
this  is  one  of  your  worst  days  ;  be  thankful  it 
has  come,  an'  will  soon  be  over,"  with  that,  she 
took  up  the  hat  that  Anne  had  dropped,  then 
took  down  the  best  dress,  and  with  them  left 
the  room. 

"  You  didn't  hurt  her,  did  you  ?  "  interrogated 
Dora,  pale  and  uneasy,  when  the  gipsy  descended 
the  stairs. 

"  Bless  you  bonny  eyes,  no.  Shall  I  tell  your 
fortune. 

"  No ;  I  don't  want  to  hear  it.  Hurry  an'  get 
away  from  here — that's  all  I  want,"  and  Dora, 
not  noticing   the  dress,  that  was  rolled  up,  and 


A  GIPSr  FORTUNE-TELLER.  159 

tucked  away  under  the  gipsy's  arm,  conducted 
her  to  the  door  through  which  she  had  entered, 
and  watched  her,  until  her  form  disappeared 
from  sight,  then  she  left  the  house,  and  walked 
rapidly  down  the  street  to  meet  the  children 
returning  from  the  picnic. 

Dora  walked  on  and  on.  "  Why  were  they 
so  long  coming  ? "  thought  she  to  herself,  and- 
at  every  step,  her  fears  in  regard  to  Anne  in- 
creased. What  if  the  gipsy  had  hurt  her?  She 
had  listened  and  had  heard  not  the  slightest 
sound.  Surely  Anne  must  have  had  time  to 
make  one  outcry,  unless  she  had  been  taken  by 
surprise  and  knocked  senseless.  Perhaps  she  was 
Ijnng  on  her  room  floor  now,  insensible !  Per- 
haps—  oh,  what  a  chill  came  over  Dora  at  the 
thought  and  a  cold  sweat  started  from  every 
pore  —  Perhaps  she  was  dead  I 

She    quickened    her    steps    into    a    run,   then 
paused  abruptly. 

"  I  won't  go  any  farther,"  said  she  to  herself. 
"  I'U  go  back,  an'  send  Mrs.  Shote  to  her 
room  ;  maybe  I  will  be  too  late  to  help  her  if 
she  is  hurt.  Oh,  whatever  made  me  do  such  a 
wicked  thing  !  "  at  that  moment  a  distant  shout 
reached  her    ears    and    looking,  she    beheld  the 


160  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

school-children  returning.  "I  may  as  well  wait 
for  them,  now,"  said  she.  "  A  few  minutes 
can't  make  a  great  difference,  either  way,"  and 
Dora  seated  herself  upon  a  stone,  by  the  road- 
side, to  await  the  children's  approach,  looking 
anything  but  happy.  Poor  girl !  she  had  yet  to 
learn  that  revenge  is  not  for  us ;  that  there  is 
One  who  knows  all  our  wrongs,  great  and  small, 
and  has  promised  to  repay  them. 

"  Oh,  Dora  !  "  exclaimed  Lucy,  who  was  one 
of  the  first  to  come  up  to  where  Dora  was 
seated.  "You  don't  know  what  a  good  time 
we've  had  all  the  afternoon  ?  I  wish  you  had 
been  with  us." 

"I  wish  I  had,  too,"  rephed  Dora,  soberly, 
looking  into  the  bright  animated  face  before 
her. 

"  Well,  you  look  as  though  you  did,  I  must 
say.  It's  your  own  fault  that  you  didn't  go.  I 
knew  you'd  be  sorry  for  it." 

"  It's  too  late  to  talk  about  it  now :  let's  get 
home  as  soon  as  we  can." 

"  What's  your  hurry  ?  I  think  its  splendid 
here.     Did  you  ever  see  such  a  red  sunset." 

"  Bother  the  sunset,  to-night ;  the  other  chil- 
dren will  all  get  home  before  we  do,  "  and  Dora 
arose  and  walked  on. 


A  GIPSr  FORTUNE-TELLER.  '  161 

"  You  are  the  strangest  girl  I  ever  saw.  Some 
evenings  you  can't  look  at  the  sunset  long 
enough,  even  when  it  isn't  half  as  handsome  as 
it  is  now,"  said  Lucy,  as  she  walked  along  by 
her  side. 

"  One  can't  always  feel  the  same." 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  along  to  the  woods 
if  you  wanted  to  so  bad  ?  you  would  have  found 
i^s  all  there  ;  you  couldn't  have  missed  us.  If  I 
had  known  yo\i  felt  so  about  it,  I'd  have  come 
back  after  you," 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Lucy,  don't  talk  any 
more  about  it.  I  know  you  would  ;  you're  the 
best  girl  I  ever  knew.  I  don't  care  about  the 
picnic.  I've  got  the  blues,  I  guess.  I  want  to 
get  home  too — to  get  some  supper." 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all,"  replied  Lucy,  with  a 
laugh,  "  you'll  soon  be  yourself  again." 

Dora's  steps  began  to  grow  slower,  as  they 
drew  near  Hive  Hall.  She  would  soon  know  all 
now.  Maria  Hurd,  Anne's  roommate,  was  one 
of  the  first  to  enter.  Dora  watched  her  as  she 
ascended  the  stairs  to  her  room,  to  remove  her 
hat  and  brush  her  hair,  before  appearing  at  the 
supper  table. 

Then  Dora  entered,  and  stopped  at  the  foot  of 

11 


162  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

the    stairs    to    listen,  while    the    other    children 
brushed  by  her,  on  tlieir  way  to  their  rooms. 

No  unusual  sounds  greeted  her  listening  ears. 
Presently  Maria  re-appeared,  looking  fresh  and 
clean.  Dora  looked  inquiringly  into  her  face, 
as  she  descended  the  stairs,  but  her  face  was  as 
expressionless  as  usual;  what  could  it  mean? 
Dora  decided  to  remain  in  suspense  no  longer ; 
she  would  look  into  Anne's  room  lievself;  but 
an  awful  thought  suddenly  arrested  her  steps  in 
that  direction.  What  if  the  gipsy  had  mur- 
dered Anne,  and  hid  the  body  where  Maria 
could  not  see  it  when  she  entered  the  room ! 
It  must  be  so,  thought  Dora,  and  she  bowed 
her  head  on  the  banister  in  an  agony  of  remorse. 

For  a  while  she  stood  motionless  ;  then,  sud- 
denly resolving  to  know  the  Avorst,  she  ascended 
the  stairs,  and  opening  the  door  looked  into 
Anne's  room ;  a  minute  was  long  enough  to 
prove  to  her  that  Anne  was  not  there.  Very 
much  puzzled  she  closed  the  door,  and  walked 
towards  her  own  room  ;  Lucy  was  just  coming 
out  of  it,  as  she  approached. 

"  You  look  as  though  you'd  seen  a  ghost, 
Dora !  I  never  saw  you  so  pale  before  j  are 
you  sick  ?  " 


A  GIPSr  FORTUNE-TELLER.  163 

*'  Sick  ?  no.  What  a  foolish  child  you  are. 
Run  along  down.  I'll  be  down  as  soon  as  I 
brush  my  hair,' '  and  Dora  entered  her  room,  and 
shut  the  door  almost  in  Lucy's  sympathizing 
face.  She  did  not  attempt  to  brush  her  hair, 
however,  but  sank  down  in  a  chair,  and  there 
remained  for  she  knew  not  how  long. 

She,  was  disturbed  at  last,  by  Lucy,  who 
bounced  into  the  room,  exclaiming  : 

*'  Oh,  Dora,  have  you  heard  the  news  ?  " 

"  What  news  ?  "  said  Dora,  starting  suddenly. 

*'  About  Anne  Porter." 

"  I  haven't  heard  anything  about  her,"  Dora 
managed  to  articulate.     "What  about  her?  " 

*'  Why  you  came  near  losing  her,  before  you 
got  even  with  her,"  replied  Lucy,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Came  near  losing  her  ?  "  and  Dora  began  to 
breathe  again. 

"  Yes  ;  it's  the  strangest  thing  ever  you  heard 
of.  Dou't  you  think,  a  horrid  old  gipsy  woman, 
you'd  ought  to  hear  Anne  describe  her,  went 
into  her  room  this  afternoon  an'  wanted  to  tell 
her  fortune.  How  I  wish  I'd  been  here ;  I'd 
have  had  mine  told." 

"  Well,  what  did  she  do  ?  "  questioned  impa- 
tient Dora. 


164  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

"  Anne  told  her  she  didn't  have  any  money, 
then  she  wanted  her  best  dress,  or  hat  instead, 
and  Anne  would  not  give  them  to  her,  of  course  ; 
so  then  she  took  a  pair  of  stockings  that  were 
on  the  bureau,  an'  forced  them  into  Anne's 
mouth,  so  she  couldn't  cry  out,  then  tied  her 
into  a  chair,  and  walked  off  with  the  best  dress 
and  that  unfortunate  hat." 

"  Was  Anne  hurt  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all ;  only  her  jaws  are  stiff." 

"I'm  glad!"  exclaimed  Dora,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

"Glad  of  what?" 

"  I'm  glad  she — glad  the  gipsy  took  away  her 
best  dress,  an'  that  hat." 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  Aunt  Daisy  took 
her  to  the  village  and  bought  her  a  new  hat, 
the  one  she  saw,  and  tried  to  make  hers  like  ; 
then  she  took  her  home  with  her,  and  gave  her 
a  dress  ;  one  she  used  to  wear  herself,  I  guess, 
but  I  tell  you  it's  gay.  Won't  she  feel  big, 
to-morrow  ?  Why,  you'd  think  she'd  done  some- 
thing wonderful,  herself,  by  the  way  she  is  put- 
ting on  airs,  and  every  one  is  making  much  of 
her." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  making  much  of 
her.'  " 


A  GIPSr  FORTUNE-TELLER.  165 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Shote  took  her  into  her  own 
private  room,  an'  gave  her  lots  of  nice  things  to 
eat ;  then  Mrs.  Burns  took  her  off  to  her  room, 
an'  I  don't  know  what  she  gave  her,  but  she 
came  out  looking  pleased  enough ;  an'  Aunt  Daisy 
says  she  wants  her  to  spend  the  evening  with 
her,  at  her  house."  Dora  greeted  this  informa- 
tion with  a  low  whistle. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Lucy,  with  a  laugh,  "  it 
won't  be  of  any  use  for  us  to  speak  to  her  for 
a  month,  she  wouldn't  answer  us,  if  we  did,  she 
feels  so  big." 

"  You  forget  that  I  don't  speak  to  her." 

"  Dear  me !  so  you  don't.  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  help  it,  at  such  a  time  as  this,  though ; 
I  couldn't.  I  wish  I  hadn't  gone  to  the  picnic. 
Perhaps  I  should  be  of  some  consequence,  now, 
if  I  hadn't.  How  is  it  the  gipsy  didn't  touch 
you,  when  she  got  into  the  house  ?  or  wasn't 
you  here  ?  " 

"  I  was  out  nearly  all  the  afternoon.  Did  any 
of  the  other  girls  lose  anything  ?  " 

"  No  ;  Mrs.  Shote  went  through  all  the  rooms 
to  see  if  anything  else  was  stolen.  She  thinks 
the  gif)sy  must  have  got  frightened,  an'  left 
before  she  had  time  to  take  anything  else  ?  " 


166  DAISY  TRAVBRS. 

"  You  didn't  say  who  first  saw  Anne  after  the 
gipsy  left  her  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Daisy.  She  was  going  to  ride  and 
stopped  here,  to  see  if  we  had  left  our  rooms  in 
good  order.  When  she  opened  Anne's  room 
door,  there  was  Anne  tied  in  a  chair,  an'  nearly 
choked  to  death  with  the  stockings  in  her  mouth. 
She  must  have  taken  on  dreadfully  about  her 
hat  an'  dress,  for  Aunt  Daisy  took  her  to  the 
village  for  a  new  hat  as  soon  as  she  had  told 
Mrs.  Shote  about  it  all." 

"  WeU,  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  about 
it.     I'm  going  down  to  supper." 

"Supper?  "Why,  supper  was  over  an  hour 
ago." 

"It  was?" 

"  Yes.     Wasn't  you  down  to  it  ?  " 

"  It's  likely  I'd  say  I  was  going  down  to  it 
now  if  I  was." 

"  Nobody  noticed  that  you  wasn't  there,  we 
were  all  having  such  a  talk  about  Anne  and  the 
gipsy.     Did  you  faU  asleep  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  and  Dora  turned  her  face  to 
the  window. 

"Never  mind,  Dora;  I'U  go  down  and  tell 
Mrs.  Shote  that  you  feU  asleep  and   didn't  hear 


A  GIPSr  FORTUNE-TELLER.  167 

the  supper-bell,  an'  to  give  me  something  for 
you  to  eut.  It  will  taste  all  the  nicer,  eating  it 
here.  I'U  tell  her  I  didn't  eat  anything  myself, 
there  was  so  much,  talk  going  on,  so  she  can 
give  enough  for  two."  With  that,  generous, 
unsuspecting  Lucy  left  the  room. 

Dora,  as  soon  as  she  was  alone,  began  to 
meditate  on  how  differently  the  gipsy  affair  had 
ended  from  what  she  had  expected.  Anne  had 
certainly  gained  by  it.  The  only  one  that  lost 
by  it  was  Aunt  Daisy,  whom  Dora  loved  more 
than  any  one  else  in  the  world.  The  only  one 
that  had  really  suffered  by  it  was  herself,  while 
she  was  in  suspense  as  to  Anne's  fate. 

"  Open  the  door,  Dora  !  "  called  Lucy,  return- 
ing ;  and  Dora  arose  to  open  it,  letting  in  her 
room-mate  who  held  a  waiter  on  which  were  two 
glasses  of  milk,  some  sandwiches,  and  two  slices 
of  cake. 

"  Now  won't  we  have  a  joUy  time  all  by  our- 
selves. JVIrs.  Shote  was  good-natured  enough  for 
an}i:hing.  Just  turn  that  chair  around,  so  I  can 
put  this  on  it;  I'm  tired  of  holding  it." 

'  ■  There !  you  always  have  to  tell  me  what  to 
do,  but  you  always  know  just  what  to  do  with- 
out being  told.  Roily,"  said  Dora,  as  she  placed 


168  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

the  chair  to  receive  the  waiter.  "I  should  have 
gone  to  bed  hungry,  to-night,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  you." 

"  And  I  should  have  gone  to  bed  hungry  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  you ;  so  we're  even,"  replied 
Lucy  with  a  laugh.  "That  cake,  so  Mrs.  Shote 
told  me,  is  some  she  took  ^out  for  Anne,  but 
Anne  couldn't  eat  it,  she  had  had  so  many  other 
things.     It's  splendid  !     Full  of  plums  !  " 

"  You  eat  it  all.  Roily  ;  I  don't  want  any  of 
it  "  said  Dora,  pushing  it  to  Lucy's  side  of  the 
waiter. 

*'  Why  not  ? "  questioned  Lucy,  her  round  eyes 
opening  in  surprise. 

"  Because,  I  don't.  There  goes  Anne  Porker," 
continued  she,  casting  a  glance  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lucy,  "  she's  on  her  way  to 
Aunt  Daisy's.  How  she  does  swing  that  new 
dress  of  hers,  an'  isn't  that  hat  a  beauty  ?  " 


CHAPTER    XI. 

POOR   DOEA. 

I  HAT  niglit  Lucy  was  awakened  by  heai- 
'!|     ing   Dora  moaning   and  talking  in  her 
sleep,  as  though  under  the  influence  of 
a  terrible  nightmare. 

"Wake  up!  wake  up,  Dora  I"  said  she,  sitting 
up  in  bed,  and  shaking  her  sulBFering  companion 
vigorously.     "  Wake  up,  you  frighten  me." 

"I  told  you  not  to  hurt  her!  I  told  yon  not 
to  hurt  her !  "  mourned  Dora. 

"  Nobody's  getting  hurt  but  yourself.  Wake 
up ! "  and  Lucy,  with  one  great  effort,  pulled 
Dora  into  a  sitting  position. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  she,  in  bewilder- 
ment, awake  at  last. 

"  I  should  say  what's  the  matter.  You've 
been  having  bad  dreams." 

^'  It  was  only  a  dream ! "  and  Dora  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  fell  heavily  back  upon  her  pillow. 

169 


170  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  Only  tbe  nightmare^  you  mean.  It  frightened 
me  to  listen  to  you.  I  don't  see  what  made  you 
have  it,  when  T  ate  all  the  cake.  What  did  you 
think  had  got  3^ou." 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Dora,  sitting  up  again 
to  cast  a  frightened  look  around  the  moon-lit' 
room. 

"  I  do,  then ;  you  thought  that  gipsy  had  got 
you ;  you  said  as  much  in  your  sleep." 

"  What  did  I  say?  "  questioned  Dora,  earnestly. 

"  I  couldn't  make  out  half ;  you  were  scolding 
the  gipsy,  furiously,  though,  and  telling  her  not 
to  hurt  somebody  ;  I  suppose  you  meant  yourself 
by  the  way  you  were  moaning." 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  Dora,  with  another 
sigh  of  relief;  then  a  silence  fell  between  the 
two  girls  which    was   broken,  at    last,  by    Dora. 

"  Roily  !  "     ' 

"  What." 

"  How  would  you  get  even  with  Anne  Pdrt — 
Porker,  if  you  were  in  my  place  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  try  to  get  even  with  her,  at  all." 

"  That's  easy  for  you  to  say,  when  she  hasn't 
done  anything  to  you.  But  just  tljink  if  she 
should  destroy  something  of  yours  that  you  had 
been  a  long  time  making,  and  thought  a  great 
deal  of,  wouldn't  you  want  to  get  even  with  her?'* 


POOR  DORA.  171 

"  If  I  did,  like  as  not  she'd  destroy  something 
else,  to  pay  me  back.  That's  all  the  good  it 
would  do." 

"  Oh,  well,  Roily,  you  may  say  what  you 
have  a  mind  to,  but  /know  if  she  should  destroy 
that  handkerchief  you  are  working  for  Aunt 
Daisy,  you'd  be  as  mad  as  I  was  when  she  threw 
Una  an'  the  lion  out  the  window." 

"I  should  feel  bad  to  lose  the  handkerchief, 
now  it's  nearly  done  ;  but  she  wouldn't  destroy 
it  without  cause,  I  know." 

"  Do  you  think  she  had  cause  to  destroy  Una 
an'  the  Hon  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  put  rats  in  her  new  hat  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  cause  enough  for  her 
to  destroy  what  I  had  been  so  long  making." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  she  wouldn't  stop  to  think 
of  that,  if  she  was  mad." 

"  That's  right ;  make  it  out  that  I'm  the  only 
one  to  blame,  in  everything.  I  believe  you're 
more  her  friend,  now,  than  you  are  mine.  You 
had  better  go  an'  room  with  her."  To  that 
speech  Lucy  made  no  reply.  She  was  pained 
by  it,  Dora  knew,  and  she  repented  of  having 
said  it  a  moment  after.  "  I  wonder  if  I'll  always 
hurt  those  I  do    like,  an'   help    those    I   don't," 


172  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

said  she  to  herself,  turning  her  face  to  the  wall, 
with  a  sound  that  was  suspiciously  like  a  sob. 
Lucy  heard  it,  and  one  of  her  plump  hands  fell 
on  Dora's  shoulder  caressingly. 

"  I  know  you  didn't   mean    that,  Dora,  but    I 
do  think   you   are  to  blame,  for  j^ou  must  see,^ 
yourself,  if  you  hadn't  put  the  young  rats  in  her 
hat,  Una  would  be  whole  now." 

"  But  my  parrot  ?  " 

"  You  would  have  her  now  if  you  hadh't 
taught  her  to  say  what  you  did.  Then  you  know 
you  made  the  pig,  and  put  it  in  Anne's  desk, 
with  her  name   on   it,  for   no   cause,  whatever." 

"  It  was  a  good  likeness  of  her,  anyway ;  an' 
I  did  it  for  fun ;  that  was  cause  enough." 

"  She  didn't  like  it,  if  it  was  for  fun  ;  you 
must  have  known  she  wouldn't  stand  that  kind 
of  fun  long.  I  wish  you  had  had  your  fun  with 
me  instead  of  her,  I  wouldn't  have  cared  if 
you  had  made  a  dozen  pigs,  and  put  my  name 
on  them  all." 

"  There  wouldn't  have  been  any  fun  in  it 
unless  you  cared.     What  was  that  noise  ? " 

"  I  didn't  hear  anything." 

"  I  did ;  it  sounded  as  though  some  one  was 
creeping  along  in  the  passage,  outside  the  door." 
replied  Dora,  in  a  whisper. 


POOR  DORA.  173 

"Everybody  is  in  bed  and  asleep  long  ago," 
said, Lucy,  holding  her  breath  to  listen. 

"There!  did  you  hear  it,  then?" 

"  I  heard  something  ;  what  was  it  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.     What  if  it  should  be  —  rob- 
•  bers  ! "  whispered  Dora,  sitting  up  erect. 

"  Oh,  Dora  !  you'll  frighten  me  to  death  before 
morning,  I  know  you  will !  What  would  robbers 
want  here  ?  " 

"Hush!  there  it  is  again!  " 

"  I  heard  it.  Oh,  dear  me !  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  find  out  what  it  is." 

"  Don't !  don't  Dora !  Lie  down  an'  keep 
still,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't.  If  it's  a  robber,  he  is  taking  off 
Aunt  Daisy's  property,  an'  I  won't  lie  still  an' 
see  that  done.  Let  me  alone.  Roily,  I  only  want 
to  see  what  it  is." 

"  But  if  it  should  be  a  robber ! "  whispered 
Lucy,  relaxing  her  hold  on  Dora. 

"  Let's  have  the  sheet  !  1*11  make  off  I'm  a 
ghost,  till  I  can  get  in  Mrs.  Shote's  room  !  She'll 
know  what  to  do.  Hurry  !  "  With  that,  Dora, 
impatient  at  Lucy's  slowness  in  comprehending 
her,  jerked  off  the  sheet,  and  throwing    it    over 


174  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

her  head,  softly  approached  the  d  or,  and,  cau- 
tiously opening  it,  passed  out  into    the    passage. 

It  was  quite  dark  there,  save  where  the  moon- 
light struggled  in  through  the  long  window  at 
the  end ;  but  it  was  light  enough  for  Dora  to 
see  that  a  robber  had  evidently  been  at  work 
there ;  for  the  doors,  to  the  long  row  of  closets 
opposite  the  sleeping  apartments,  were  open,  and 
the  closets,  which  contained  the  children's  clothing 
were  empty,  or  nearly  so. 

"  There  has  been  a  robber  here  !  "  said  Dora 
to  herself,  "  but  he's  gone,  now  ;  or  like  as  not 
he's  down  stairs,  this  minute,  stealing  more.  I'll 
wake  up  Mrs.  Shote,  as  quick  as  I  can."  With 
that  Dora  hurried  along  the  passage ;  half  way 
through  it,  she  felt  herself  suddenly  seized  from 
behind  ;  then,  before  she  had  time  to  articulate 
a  sound,  a  strong  hand  was  around  her  throat 
and  a  gag  forced  roughly  into  her  mouth, 
stretching  her  jaws  apart  painfully.  Then  she 
was  wound  up  and  tied  in  the  sheet  she  had 
thrown  over  her  head,  and  placed  noiselessly 
upon  the  floor,  where  she  lay  powerless  to  move 
or  cry  out,  and  resembling  in  form  an  Egyptian 
mummy. 

Her  eyes    were    free,  however,  and    she    made 


POOR  DORA.  175 

use  of  them.  She  was  soon  sure  that  the  robber 
was  no  other  •  than  the  gipsy  woman  she  had  let 
into  the  house  that  afternoon  ;  and  tliat  she  had 
an  accomphce  was  evident,  for  all  the  articles 
stolen  had  been  thrown  from  the  window  which 
was  open,  to  some  one  outside. 

Poor  Dora  was  very  miserable  while  lying  there, 
watching  the  gipsy,  (for  that  individual  had 
resumed  her  work  as  soon  as  Dora;  had  been 
disposed  of,)  and  knowing  she  was  now  power- 
less to  prevent  what  would  not  have  hap- 
pened had  not  she,  herself,  opened  the  way  for  it. 

And  Lucy,  all  alone  in  bed,  awaited  Dora's 
return  with  feverish  anxiety,  not  understanding 
why  she  could  still  hear  that  sound  as  if  some 
one  was  softly  creeping  up  and  down  the  pas- 
sage, and  not  courageous  enough  to  try  to 
discover  the  cause  of  it,  as  Dora  had  done. 

After  a  while  the  gipsy,  afraid  to  remain 
longer,  or  satisfied  with  what  she  had  taken, 
descended  the  stairs  to  make  her  escape  out  of 
the  house  ;  and  Dora,  as  soon  as  she  had  gone, 
began  to  roll  herself  over  and  over  down  the 
j)assage,  until  she  reached  her  own  door;  fortu- 
nately she  had  not  latched  it  when  she  left  her 
apartment,   and    now,  rolling    up    against    it,  it 


176  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

flew  open,  and  after  a  few  unsuccessful  efforts 
she  managed  to  roll  herself  into  the  room. 

Lucy's  ear  had  been  quick  to  catch  the  strange^ 
muffled  sound  that  Dora  made  as  she  rolled 
along  ;  her  alarm  became  greater  on  hearing  it, 
but  when  it  paused  before  her  own  door,  she 
sat  up  in  bed,  her  eyes  distended  by  fright,  and 
fixed  upon  the  door,  which  soon  flew  open  ;  then 
the  awful  thing,  she  could  not  make  out  what 
it  was,  rolled  into  the  room,  and  opening  her 
mouth  she  uttered  scream  after  scream. 

Almost  simultaneously  a  voice  was  heard  in 
the  yard  below,  shouting,  "  Help  !  help  !  thieves !  " 
then  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  of  a  horse  gallop- 
ing rapidly  away,  followed,  and  presently  Hive 
Hall  was  all  ablaze  with  lights. 

It  was  some  time  after  the  gag  was  removed 
from  Dora's  mouth,  before  she  could  speak,  then 
she  could  only  say,  "  The  gipsy  has  stolen  every- 
thing !  "  when  she  began  to  cry,  as  she  had  never 
cried  before,  and  no  further  information  could 
be  gained  from  her.  Then  Lucy  was  called 
upon  to  explain  matters,  which  she  did,  to  the 
best  of  her  ability,  as  soon  as  she  recovered 
from  her  astonishment  at  discovering  that  the 
awful  thing  that  rolled  into  her  room  was  only 
Dora,  after  all. 


POOR  DORA.  ^  177 

"  What  is  to  be  done  I  "  said  Mrs.  Burns 
to  Mrs.  Shote,  wringing  her  hands.  "The  robbers 
have  taken  the  things  off  in  a  wagon,  for  I  heard 
the  sound  of  wheels  ;  it  would  be  useless  to  send 
in  pursuit  of  them,  even  if  there  was  anyone  we 
could  send.     What  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Who  was  it  that  called  for  help  down  in 
the  yard  ?  "  questioned  Mrs.  Shote,  flashing  her 
eyes  around  upon  the  children,  who  stood  huddled 
together,  awe-stricken.  "  Don't  any  of  you 
know  ? "  But  the  children  only  looked  into  each 
other's  faces,  and  replied  not. 

"  I'll  run  down,  and  try  to  discover  what  it 
meant."  And  Mrs.  Shote,  who  could  not  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  the  word  fear,  descended 
the  stairs,  and,  opening  the  hall  door  flashed 
the  rays  of  the  light  she  was  holding  into  the 
yard,  just  as  a  horse  and  wagon  entered  it. 

"  Whoa,  Dobbin  I  "  said  the  driver,  stopping 
the  horse  before  the  door,  and  throwing  the 
reins  over  his  back.  "  You're  a  great  deal  better 
on  the  trot  than  you  look  to  be,  that's  a  fact ! " 

"  Edgar  Ford !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Shote,  nearly 
dropping  her  lamp  in  her  surprise  at  seeing  the 
driver  was  one  of  the  school-boys.  "  What  does 
this  mean  ?  " 

12 


178  .  DAISY  TRAVBRS. 

"  Don't  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry ;  help  me 
with  these  duds,  first,  then  I'll  tell  you.  What 
in  the  world  do  those  girls  do  with  so  many 
clothes ! "  With  that,  Edgar  began  to  gather 
up  in  his  arms  dress  after  dress,  from  the  bottom 
of  the  wagon,  while  the  children  and  Mrs. 
Burns,  and  the  servants  came  flocking  down  to 
see  who  Mrs.  Shote  was  talking  to. 

Dora  followed  the  others,  thinking  perhaps 
the  gipsy  had  been  caught.  As  soon  as  her 
eyes  fell  upon  Edgar,  taking  the  dresses  and 
other  articles  from  the  wagon,  her  face  became 
radiant.  "  Did  you  get  them  all  ?  "  called  she, 
hysterically. 

"  Everything,"  replied  Edgar. 

"  Not  one  lost  ?  " 

"Not  one." 

"How  did  you  get  them?  How  did  you  do 
it  ?  "  questioned  many  voices. 

"  Tell  me  what  to  do  with  this  horse,  first?" 
said  he  to  Mrs.  Shote. 

Whose  is  it  ? " 

"The  thieves  had  it,  that's  all  I  know." 

"  Dear  me  !  dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Burns, 
wringing  her  hands  again. 

"  Can't    you    tie    it    in    the    shed    there,    till 


POOR  DORA.  179 

morning  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Shote,  walking  towards  the 
shed,  herself,  holding  her  light  so  he  could  see, 
and  shielding  it  from  the   wind  with   her   hand. 

Edgar  led  the  horse  after  her,  and  soon  had 
him  securely  fastened  in  the  open  shed ;  then 
they  both  returned  to  the  house,  and  entered  it. 

"  Now,  Edgar,  we  want  you  to  explain  this 
mysterious  affair,"  said  Mrs.  Burns," whose  patience 
was  almost  exhausted. 

"  It  is  easy  enough  to  do  that,"  replied  Edgar. 
"I  was  awake  when  I  heard  that  team  stop  by 
the  gate,  and  I  got  up  and  looked  out  of  the 
window,  to  see  what  it  was  after,  at  that  time 
of  night.  I  saw  two  figures  get  out  of  it  and 
approach  the  house,  going  round  to  the  back 
door.  I  watched  for  them  to  return,  and  after 
a  while  one  came  back  carrying  a  large  bundle, 
which  he  put  in  the  wagon.  I  couldn't  make 
out  what  it  meant,  so  I  opened  the  window 
and  slid  down  to  the  ground  by  the  lightning- 
rod,  and  crept  around  the  house»  The  entry 
window  upstairs  was  wide  open,  and  one  of  the 
robbers  was  standing  under  it,  catching  the 
things  the  other  robber  threw  out  to  him." 

"  Sakes  alive  I  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Shote,  lifting 
her  two  hands. 


180  '     DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"I  knew  I  couldn't  get  back  into  the  house 
■without  letting  them  see  me,"  continued  Edgar, 
"  and  it  wouldn't  do  to  try  to  awake  you  all, 
for  they  could  easily  get  away  with  what  they 
had,  before  you  could  get  your  wits  together  ; 
t;o  I  thought  I'd  just  go  'round  to  the  wagon, 
and  hide  near  it,  till  thej^  got  in  all  they  intended 
to  take,  then  when  I  saw  them  both  coming 
towards  it,  I'd  jump  in  mj^'self,  and  drive  off, 
first  shouting  loud  enough  to  wake  you  all  up, 
so  the  robbers  wouldn't  think  of  trying  their 
luck  a  second  time ;  all  of  which  I  did,  and 
here  I  am,  after  having  had  a  jolly  ride.  That 
horse  must  understand  his  business  well,  for  as 
soon  as  I  got  into  the  team  and  took  up  the 
reins,  off  he  went,  as  though  fifty  policemen 
were  after  him.  He  nearly  upset  me  twice  while 
going  'round  corners  ;  but  I  managed  to  get 
back  without  spilling  the  dry  goods." 

"You  did  well,  Edgar.  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  have  done  better,"  said  Mrs.  Burns,  after 
he  had  ceased  speaking.  "  Aunt  Daisy  shall 
hear  of  your  brave  conduct,  to-morrow.  And 
now,  children,  you  had  better  return  to  your 
beds  ;  you  need  not  fear  robbers  again  to-night. 
Mrs.  Sliote  will  see  that  the  doors  and  windows 
are  securely  fastened." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

i 

CAFGHT  IN  A   iTOEM. 

^HE  following   morning  the  whole   school 
clustered  around  Edgar,  to  hear  him  tell 
over  again  his  adventure  with  the  rob- 
bers. 

Dora  would  have  received  as  much  attention 
as  he,  had  she  been  talkative  in  regard  to  her 
encounter  with  the  thief,  but  she  was  very  ret- 
icent concerning  it,  and  all  her  answers  were 
short  and  unsatisfactory. 

Edgar  had  just  finished  speaking,  and  the 
children  were  looking  at  him  in  silent  admiration, 
when  Dora  suddenly  broke  the  silence,  by  say- 
ing: 

"  Do  you  want  my  parrot,  Edgar  ?  " 
"Don't  I,  though!     I'll  give    3'ou   four   white 
mice,  and   a    Guinea   pig,  if  you'll    swap,"   was 
the  reply. 

"  You  can  have  it  for  nothing.     I  don't  want 
181 


182  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

your  white  mice,  or  Guinea  pig ;  they're  too 
stupid." 

•'  Then  what  do  you  give  your  parrot  away 
for?" 

"  I  know,"  said  a  small  boy,  looking  wise ; 
"it's  because  you  got  back  her  best  dress,  that 
the  robbers  took ;  she  wants  to  pay  you  ;  don't 
you  see  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  that,  because  Dora  doesn't 
care  so  much  about  dresses,  as  she  does  about 
pets,  I  know.  If  it  was  Anne,  now,  I'd  believe 
you,"  said  Edgar,  with  a  smile. 

"  It's  a  pity  about  '  Anne,'  "  said  that  indi- 
vidual, with  a  toss  of  her  head,  and  a  sneer. 
"I'd  like  to  know  if  I  ever  made  such  a  fuss 
about  a  dress,  as  she  made  last  night  on  account 
of  hers." 

"  It  wasn't  on  account  of  my  dress.  My  jaws 
ached,"  said  Dora,  hotly. 

"  Mine  didn't  ache  enough  to  make  me  cry, 
an'  I  was  gagged  for  a  longer  time  than  you 
were." 

"  Your  jaw  bones  are  tougher  than  mine.  I 
can't  help  comparing  them  to  the  one  Samson 
slew  his  thousand  with,  that  we  were  reading 
about." 


CAUGHT  IN  A  STORM.  183 

"  Dora !  "  said  Mrs.  Burns,  severely.  "  That 
remark  was  uncalled  for,  and  unladylike." 

"And,  unfortunately,  true,"  replied  Dora, 
though  not  loud  enough  for  Mrs.  Burns  to  hear ; 
then  turning  to  Edgar,  she  continued :  "  What 
was  it  you  said  you  wanted  me  to  carve  out  for 
you,  the  other  day  ?  " 

"  You  said  you  wouldn't  have  time  to  do  it," 
returned  Edgar. 

"I  shall  have  plenty  of  time  now,  and  will 
do  it  for  you." 

"  "Will  you  ?  That's  good  of  you.  I  wanted 
you  to  carve  out  a  figure-head  for  my  ship." 

"  I'll  do  it,  if  3'^ou  can  tell  me  what  it's  to  be 
nke." 

"I've  got  a  picture  of  one,  that  you  can  go 
by.  I'd  like  to  have  it  just  Hke  the  picture,  if 
you  can  make  it." 

"  Where  is  the  picture  ?  " 

"  I'll  get  it  for  you."  With  that  Edgar  hur- 
ried away  to  his  desk,  and  began  a  search  among 
papers  and  books  for  the  picture  which  he  soon 
found,  and  returned  with  it  to  Dora. 

"  I  can  make  you  one  like  it,"  said  she,  after 
looking  at  it  a  minute.  "  Don't  forget  to  take 
your  parrot ;  j^ou  had  better  get  her  now,  and 
put  her  with  your  other  pets." 


184  -D^  J^S  r  TRA  VERS. 

*'  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"All  right,  then.     Much  obliged." 

"  What  are  they  going  to  do  with  that  horse 
you  took  last  night  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"No;  I  haven't  heard  any  thing." 

"  The  robbers  came  back  again,  after  we  had 
gone  to  bed,  and  took  it  off;  or  at  least  we 
suppose  so,  for  the  horse  and  team  were  gone 
this  morning,  when  I  went  down  to  look  at 
them." 

"  Did  they  steal  any  thing  that  time  ?  " 

"  Not  a  thing.  Of  course  they  wouldn't  dare 
to,  so  soon  after  getting  found  out." 

"  Do  you  suppose  they'll  ever  come  here 
again  ?  "  questioned  Dora,  nervously. 

"  I  don't  believe  they  will.  If  .they  do  Mrs. 
Shote  will  see  that  they  don't  get  in.  I  heard 
her  say  that  she  was  going  to  have  patent  locks 
to  all  the  windows  and  doors,  and  wires  put 
up  every  night,  in  the  entry,  so  if  any  one 
should  run  against  them  in  the  dark,  bells  will 
ring." 

"I  am  glad  of  that." 

"I  should  think  you  would  be.  You  got  the 
worst  of  it,  last  night." 


CAUGHT  IN  A  STORM.  185 

"  That's  nothing  new ;  I  always  get  the  worst 
of  it,"  replied  Dora,  as  she  turned  to  walk  away. 

"  I  don't  see  what  made  Dora  give  away  her 
parrot.  I  thought  she  thought  every  thing  of  it," 
said  a  girl  named  Emma  Goodwin  to  Anne 
Porter. 

"  No  doubt  she  thought  every  thing  of  her 
other  parrot,  for  she  had  taught  it  to  be  as  dis- 
agreeable as  she  is,  herself,"  replied  Anne, 
disdainfully.  "  She  can't  teach  this  one  what 
she  would  hke  to,  so  she  doesn't  want  it." 

"  That  must  be  it.  I  wonder  what  made  her 
cry  so  last  night." 

"  She  was  frightened  nearly  out  of  her  wits ; 
which  proves  she  isn't  so  brave  as  she'd  like  to 
have  people  believe.  I  thought  it  was  on 
account  of  her  dress  being  stolen,  at  fii-st,  but 
she  hasn't  got  pride  enough  to  care  whether  she 
has  a  dress  or  not." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  I  was  watching 
her  when  she  came  doAvn  stairs  to  see  Edgar, 
when  he  came  last  night.  She  did  look  as 
though  she  Avould  like  to  die,  till  Edgar  told  us 
that  he  had  got  every  thing  back  from  the  rob- 
bers ;  then  you  should  have  seen  how  her  face 
changed  and  she  was  ready  to  laugh  at  anything. 


186  DAISY  TRA  VERS. 

I  couldn't  help  wondering  if  the  change  in  her 
was  on  account  of  her  dress  being  safe." 

"  Pshaw !  she  was  getting  over  her  fright,  and 
trying  to  make  us  believe  she  wasn't  frightened, 
after  all.     I  can  read  her  like  a  book." 

"  Perhaps  that  was  it ;  though  I  don't  think 
it  was  any  thing  to  be  ashamed  of  if  she  was 
frightened.  Dear  me !  I  know  I  should  have 
been  frightened,  if  I  had  been  in  her  place." 

*'  Well,  you  don't  try  to  make  everybody 
think  you  are  brave,  as  she  does.  Don't  you 
remember  how  she  got  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  last  summer,  and  went  off  after  cherrieii  ? 
.She  didn't  care  for  the  cherries.  She  only  wanted 
to  show  off." 

"Roily,"  said  Dora,  who  was  talking  with 
Lucy,  at  the  other  side  of  the  room.  "  Just 
look  at  Anne  Porker !  What  will  you  bet  she 
isn't  talking  about  me?" 

"  What  makes  you  think  she  is  ?  "  said  Lucy, 
glancing  at  Anne.  . 

"I  can  tell  by  her  upper  lip;  it  always  goes 
up  like  that  when  she's  saying  something  good 
about  me.  You  see  it's  hard  for  her  to  say 
any  thing  good  about  any  one,  an'  when  she  does, 
by  accident,  I  supjjose  the  words  burn  her   lips. 


CAUGHT  IN  A  STORM.  187 

as  they  come  through ;  that's  why  she  sticks 
her  upper  lip  up  so.  You'd  almost  think  she 
was  sneering,  wouldn't  you  ?  but  land !  she  isn't. 
Let's  go  up  an'  ask  her  what  she's  saying.  WiU 
you  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  didn't  speak  to  her  at  all," 
replied  Lucy,  who  *had  her  own  reasons  for 
wishing  to  keep  Dora  and  Anne  apart  as  much 
as  possible. 

"  I  spoke  to  h^r  to-day  —  the  first  time  for  a 
long  while  ;  an'  I  really  enjoyed  it." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  speak  to  her  again 
to-day." 

"  Why  not  ? " 

*' One  reason  is  because  it's  Sunday,  and  if 
you  began  to  talk  with  her  you  might  forget 
that." 

"  What's  the  other  reason  ?  " 

"  No  good  can  come  of  your  talking  to  her, 
when  you  two  can't  agree  in  any  thing." 

"  Well,  Roily,  to  please  you,  I'll  agree  not  to 
speak  to  her  at  all." 

"  You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am." 

"  Yes  I  do ;  an'  I'm  going  to  tell  you  some- 
thing that  will  make  you  more  glad." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 


188  DAIS r  TR AVERS, 

"  Last  night  I  resolved  that  I  would  never  try 
to  get  even  with  her  again." 

"  Oh,  Dora  !  I  did  not  expect  to  hear  that ! 
and  I'm  so  glad,  for  your  sake,  because  you've 
been  in  trouble  ever  since  you  began  to  try  to 
get  even  with  her,  I  believe." 

"  You  have  no  idea  how  much." 

"  Haven't  I  ?  Well,  I  know  enough.  How 
came  you  to  make  that  good  resolve  ?  " 

"  I  happened  to  think  she  is  such  a  mean  pig^ 
if  I  should  get  even  with  her,  that  would  make 
me  on  a  level  with  her,  or  a  mean  pig,  too. 
Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  So  it  would,"  replied  Lucy,  with  a  laugh. 
"  I'm  glad  you  happened  to  think  of  that." 

"  I  want  two  of  you,  girls,  to  go  to  the  vil- 
lage for  me,  on  an  errand ;  who  will  go  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Burns,  one  oppressively  warm  afternoon,  a 
few  days  later. 

Instantly  a  dozen  hands  were  raised. 

"  I  only  want  two  to  go ;  Dora  Wentworth 
and  Anne  Porter,  I  think,  can  go  the  quickest. 
You  will  have  to  hurry,  for  it  looks  as  though 
a  thunder-shower  is  coming  up,  and  I  shouldn't 
want  you  to  get  caught  in  it." 

Dora  and  Anne  both   were  about  to  decline 


CAUGHT  IN  A  STORM.  189 

going,  but  thought  better  of  it,  for  a  walk  to 
the  village  was  much  to  be  preferred  to  spending 
the    afternoon  in  that  hot  school-room,  studying. 

"  I  needn't  speak  to  her,"  said  Dora  to  herself. 
"  I'll  walk  along  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street,  as  though  I  didn't  know  her." 

"  If  she  speaks  to  me,  I  wont  answer  her," 
reflected  j^nne.  "  I  don't  think  I'll  lose  a  nice 
walk  to  the  village  just  because  she's  going, 
too." 

Mrs.  Burns'  motive  for  choosing  Dora  and 
Anne,  was,  doubtless,  because  she  knew  they 
were  not  over  friendly  towards  each  other,  and 
for  that  reason  would  go  all  the  quicker ;  while 
two  good  friends  would  be  likely  to  talk  and  loiter 
by  the  way. 

They  had  soon  received  their  directions  and 
had  started  on  their  way  ;  Dora  immediately 
crossing  to  the  right  of  the  street,  on  leaving 
Hive  Hall,  much  to  Anne's  satisfaction,  for  the 
left  side  was  the  shadiest. 

As  they  walked  along,  Dora  watched  th^  black 
clouds  that  were  rapidly  gathering  in  the  heavens, 
and  Anne  watched  the  fashions,  on  the  people 
she  passed.  So  they  reached  the  village,  did 
their  errand,  and    had    started    to   return,  when 


190  DAJSr  TRAVERS. 

Dora  felt  a  large  drop  of  rain  on  her  face. 
Looking  up  she  saw  that  the  sky  was  very  black, 
indeed,  and  that  they  must  hurry  if  they  would 
escape  a  wetting.  She  was  about  to  say  as 
much  to  Anne,  but  changed  her  mind  and  quick- 
ened her  steps  nearly  to  a  run. 

Anne  did  not  need  to  be  told  to  hurry.  She 
had  felt  a  large  drop  of  rain  descend  on  her 
best  hat,  and,  after  pulling  out  her  handker- 
chief and  covering  her  hat  with  it,  she  quick- 
ened her  steps  also. 

"  Oh,  dear  I  "  said  she  to  herself,  "  a  mile  an' 
a  half  farther  before  we  reach  Hive  Hall.  I 
shall  get  wet  through,  I  know ;  there's  not  a 
house  near  to  go  into.  How  I  wish  I  hadn't 
come.  I  might  have  known  I'd  have  bad  luck, 
with  her  for  company." 

"  I  can't  keep  up  that  trot,  from  here  to  Hive 
Hall,"  muttered  Dora.  "I'm  in  for  a  wetting, 
any  way,  so  I  might  as  well  take  things  easy 
an'  enjoy  it." 

"  Anne  Porter  may  as  well  stop  running.  Here 
comes  the  rain,  now  !  "  and  down  it  came,  in 
torrents,  wetting  them  both  through  to  the  skin 
in  a  minute. 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  dear  me  !  dear  me  I  "   moaned 


CAUGHT  IN  A  STORM.  191 

Anne,  as  she  still  hurried  on.  Mrs.  Burns  had 
no  business  to  send  me  on  her  errands  when  it 
looked  so  much  like  rain.  I'll  tell  Aunt  Daisy 
all  about  her.  My  new  hat  is  spoilt  again,  an' 
I'm  the  most  unfortunate  girl  in  the  world ! 
Oh ! "  the  last  exclamation  was  caused  by  a  ter- 
rific peal  of  thunder,  which  followed  immediate- 
ly after  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning. 

"  I  can't  go  any  farther.  I  shall  be  struck 
by  lightning  I  I  know  I  shall  I"  said  Anne,  in 
terror,  as  another  blinding  flash  and  thunder 
peal  made  her  pause  irresolute. 

"  That  struck  near  here  "  said  Dore  coming 
up  to  where  she  was  standing,  awed  into  for- 
getfulness  of  the  animosity  between  them. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  !  I  shall  be  struck,  I 
know  I  shall  !  "  and  Anne,  when  another  peal 
of  thunder  came,  sank  to  the  ground,  too  fright- 
ened to  try  to  go  farther. 

"  Don't  do  that  \ "  said  Dora,  taking  hold  of 
her  shoulder.  "  We  can  get  home  in  less  than 
half  an  hour  if  we  try ;  or  there  is  an  old  barn 
not  far  from  here,  that  we  can  stay  in  till  the 
storm  is  over.  Come,  I  say  I  "  and  Anne, 
scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  arose  slowly  to 
her  feet  and  followed  Dora,  who  walked  up  the 


192  DAISY  TR AVERS. 

street  for  a  few  rods,  then  turned  into  a  lane, 
that  led  to  an  old  forsaken  barn;  this  she 
entered,  and  Anne,  glad  of  any  shelter,  fol- 
lowed her,  sinking  down  upon  the  floor  immedi- 
ately on  entering  ;  her  dripping  clothes  forming 
a  pool  around  her. 

"  This  is  better  than  being  out  in  the  rain, 
any  way,"  said  Dora,  "  though  we  couldn't  get 
any  wetter  if  we  should  try.  Like  as  not  we'll 
have  to  stay  here  all  night." 

"All  night!"  repeated  Anne,  after  another 
peal  of  thunder  had  spent  its  fury. 

"  Yes,  unless  it  clears  off,  or  you  cease  to  be 
afraid  to  go  on." 

"  I  should  die  to  stay  here  all  night,  an'  I 
cannot  go  on,"  and  Anne  wrung  some  water 
out  of  her  dress,  then  put  the  dress  back  in 
the  water  again,  in  her  excitement. 

"  I  don't  believe  this  will  last  all  night ;  if  it 
should  look  like  it,  an  hour  '  from  now,  I  think 
we  had  better  start  on  again,  for  it  would  be 
as  bad  in  the  end,  staying  here  all  night  in 
these  wet  clothes,  as  it  would  to  go  on,  and  get 
struck." 

"  It's  all  Mrs.  Burns'  fault ;  she  had  no  right 
to  send  us  when  it  looked  so  much  like   rain." 


CAUGHT  IN  A  STORM.  193 

"  She  didn't  think  it  would  rain  so  soon  ;  she 
wouldn't  have  sent  us  if  she  had  thought  so,  I 
know,"  replied  Dora. 

*'0h,  dear!  dear  I  it's  growing  worse  and 
worse  !  "  said  Anne,  hiding  her  face  in  her  wet 
dress  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  the  lightning,  that 
was  now  flashing  almost  incessantly,  while  -the 
thunder  rattled  and  rolled  overhead  angrily. 

"  I've  d  mind  to — "  but  Dora's  sentence  was 
never  finished;  for  at  that  instant  the  old  barn 
was  struck  by  lightning,  and  bqth  the  girls  were 
prostrated,  insensible. 

"  The  old  barn  was  struck  that  time.  See  I 
it's  all  afire  so  quick !"  exclaimed  a  farmer  in  a 
blue  frock,  to  a  companion,  as  the  two  men 
were  hurrying  along  the  street,  iu  the  direction 
of  the  village. 

"  Sure  enough !  They'll  see  the  light  at  the 
village,  and  get  the  engine  out  for  nothing 
unless  we  hurry,  an'  let  them  know  what's  a 
burning." 

"  Nothing  in  it  worth  saving,  is  there  ?  " 

"  Not  a  thing.  I  looked  in  it  only  this  morn- 
ing, an'  it's  as  empty  as  a  dry  well.  Come  on ! 
with  that  the  two  men  hurried  along,  casting 
now    and    then   a   glance    behind    them   at    the 

13 


194  I^AIS  r  TRA  VERS. 

flames,  that  were  spreading  fast  over  the  old 
barn,  with  more  curiosity  than  concern  in  their 
faces,  for  there  was  nothing  in  it  worth  saving  ! 
Ah  !  had  the}''  only  been  less  sure  of  that,  and 
had  taken  the  trouble  to  look  in  at  the  door  to 
prove  the  words  true,  what  would  have  been 
their  surprise  on  seeing  the  two  girls  lying  upon 
the  floor,  unconscious  of  the  flames  that  were 
approaching  them  nearer  every     minute. 

Five  minutes  passed  away,  and  Dora  opened 
her  eyes  to  the  flames  that  were  hissing  and 
leaping  before  her.  For  a  while  she  moved  not, 
thinking  it  all  a  dream,  till  a  hot  cinder  fell 
upon  her  face,  and  burned  her;  then  smarting 
with  pain  she  sat  up,  and  looked  around  her. 
Where  was  she !  What  did  it  mean !  She  could 
not  tell  till  her  eyes  rested  on  Anne's  motion- 
less form,  then  memory  returned. 

The  barn  had  been  struck  by  lightning !  Was 
Anne  dead  ?  were  her  first  thoughts  ;  and  stag- 
gering to  her  feet  she  approached  her  uncon- 
scious schoolmate,  and  all  her  fright  vanished 
when  she  found  that  she  was  breathing. 

Taking  hold  of  her  shoulder,  she  began  to 
shake  her  with  a  will. 

"Come    to,    can't  you?     We   haven't   got    a 


CAUGHT  IN  A  STORM.  195 

minute  to  lose  !  Don't  you  s  e  the  barn  is  on 
fire?"  shouted  Dora,  in  her  ear;  but  Anne's 
eyes  would  not  open. 

"  There  !  we  can't  get  out  by  the  door,  now," 
exclaimed  Dora,  as  a  part  of  the  frame-work  fell, 
completely  closing  the  door-way.  "  What  can 
be  done !  The  roof  will  fall  on  us  in  another 
minute.  I  could  easily  get  out  the  window ; 
but  it  would  be  dreadful  to  go  an'  know  she  is 
getting  burned  up.  If  I  could  only  lift  her  up 
an'  throw  her  out."  With  that  Dora  dragged 
Anne  to  the  window,  but  all  her  strength  was 
not  enough  to  enable  her  to  hft  the  unconscious 
form  to  the  desired  height. 

She  turned  to  see  how  fast  the  flames  were 
raging,  and  as  she  looked  a  cold  sweat  started 
from  every  pore ;  then  suddenly  stooping,  she 
picked  up  a  burning  cinder. 

"  One  brought  me  to  my  senses  —  perhaps  this 
will  do  the  same  by  her,"  said  she,  as  she  pressed 
it  against  the  palm  of  Anne*s  hand.  A  sigh, 
and  Anne's  eyes  opened. 

"  Get  up,  quick !  Don't  you  see  the  barn  is 
on  fire  ! "  shouted  Daisy,  shaking  her  vigorously, 
and  almost  before  Anne  could  realize  the  state 
of  affairs  she  was  out  of  the  window,  where  she 
fell  to  the  ground  unconscious   again. 


196  DA  IS  r  TRA  VERS. 

In  a  second  Dora  was  out  after  her,  and  tak- 
ing her  by  the  shoulders  began  to  drag  her 
away  from  the  burning  building.  She  was  not 
a  minute  too  soon,  for  scarcely  had  she  succeeded 
in  getting  her  a  few  rods  away,  when  the  roof 
fell  in  with  a  crash. 

*'  "We  are  out  of  that,  any  way ;  thanks  to  a 
cinder !  "  said  she,  to  herself,  as  she  paused  to 
look  at  the  burning  building.  "  Now  what  shall 
I  do  ? "  Shall  I  leave  her  here  and  go  to  the 
Hall  for  help,  or  stay  here  with  her  till  she 
comes  to  ?  I  guess  I'll  stay  here.  With  that 
Dora  sat  dowij  on  the  ground  beside  Anne,  to 
wait  until  she  should  regain  her' senses. 

Half  an  hour  passed  away,  and  still  there  was 
no  sign  of  returning  consciousness ;  and  all  that 
time  down  poured  the  rain,  and  the  thunder 
and    lightning  raged    furiously. 

"I  wonder  what  they  think  has  become  of  us 
at  the  Hall,"  mused  she.  "  They  must  think 
we  are  at  the  village,  with  Mrs.  Genning.  If  I 
had  thought  she  would  be  so  long  coming  to, 
I'd  have  gone  for  help  at  first.  I've  a  mind 
to  start,  as  it  is.  Maybe  she  won't  come  to  now 
before  I  get  back."  And  after  looking  once 
more  into  the  face  of  unconscious  Anne,  Dora 
hurried  away. 


Saved  from  the  Flames.  —  Page  19G. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

UNDER  ANNE's   window. 

fi^  T  was  a  bright,  sunshiny  morning  ;  the  air 
Me  was  fresh  and  cool  as  it  made  its  way 
through  the  open  window,  into  the  "sick- 
room "  at  Hive  Hall,  where  Anne  Porter  was 
lying,  watching  the  birds  on  the  great  elm  tree, 
that  was  so  near  she  could  hear  the  rustUng  of 
its  leaves,  as  they  were  stirred  by  the  wind. 

"What  restless,  dissatisfied  things  birds  are!" 
thought  she  to  herself,  as  she  watched  them, 
and  noticed  that  not  a  minute  could  pass  between 
their  coming  and  going.  "  What  if  they  had  to 
stay  in  one  place  for  three  weeks  as  I  have  had 
to.  But  I  shan't  have  to  stay  here  much  longer. 
Aunt  Daisy  said  to-day  that  I  was  getting  well 
fast,  and  would  soon  be  able  to  go  down  stairs/ 
She  promised  me,  too,  that  some  of  the  girls 
could  come  in  to  see  me,  to-day.  Dear,  me!  I 
wish    some    of   them    would    come    in    now.     I 

197 


198  ^^  ^S  r  TEA  VERS. 

wonder  what  they've  been  about  all  the  time 
I've  been  sick."  Anne  suddenly  stopped  musing, 
for  she  had  caught  the  sound  of  a  step  outside. 
"  It's  one  of  the  girls,"  said  she  to  herself.  "  I 
wonder  which  one  it  is  ?  "  and  a  flush  of  plea- 
sure came  over  her  pale  face  at  the  thought  of 
seeing  one  of  her  young  friends  again  ;  but  when 
the  door  opened,  and  Dora  Went  worth  entered, 
her  face  expressed  nothing  but  vexation. 

*'  I  am  glad  you  are  well  enough  to  have  vis- 
itors, at  last,"  said  Dora,  approaching  the  bed, 
and  holding  out  her  hand,  which  Anne  took  no 
notice  of. 

*'  Where  are  all  the  rest  of  the  girls  ?  It's 
very  strange  they  should  let  you  be  the  first  one 
to  come  to  see  me,"  said  she,  petulantly. 

"  I  saw  Aunt  Daisy  before  the  others  did, 
and  she  told  •  me  that  you  were  better.  The 
other  girls  will  be  in  as  soon  as  they  know  it, 
and  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you  before 
they  come." 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  tell  me  how  you 
saved  my  life  the  day  of  the  storm.  Aunt  Daisy 
told  me  aU  about  it,  so  there's  no  use  telling 
me  again." 

"  I  didn't  come  to  tell  you  that." 


UNDER  ANNE'S  WINDOW.  199 

*'  Perhaps  you  came  in  to  ask  if  my  hand 
smarted  much.  It  was  like  you  to  burn  me  like 
that,  when  I  was  unconscious." 

"  Don't  you  know  why  I  did  it  ?  " 

*'  Of  course  I  know." 

"  You  don't  think  I  did  it  out  of  malice,  do 
you,"  for  there  was  something  in  Anne's  tone 
that  Dora  did  not  like.  "  That  burn  was  the 
only  thing  that  saved  your  life.  I  couldn't  have 
got  you  out  of  the  barn  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
that." 

*'  Well,  then,  give  the  credit  to  the  burn,  if 
it  was  the  only  thing  that  saved  my  life,  and 
don't  take  so  much  to  yourself.  It  was  big 
enough  to  save  my  life,  that's  a  fact,  and  the 
scar  will  never  go  away,  I  know.  I  dread  see- 
ing the  other  girls  for  it  will  be  nothing  but 
'  Dora  Wentworth  saved  your  life  !  Dora  Went- 
worth  saved  your  life  ! '  for  a  year,  at  least  I 
can  imagine  just  how  much  you've  praised  your- 
self up  to  them,  for  what  you  did,  or  pretended 
to  do." 

Dora's  eyes  flashed  angrily,  at  this  ungrateful 
speech,  and  a  cutting  reply  nearly  escaped  her, 
but  she  turned  abruptly  and  walked  to  the  win- 
dow.     '*  I    don't    believe    Roily,    herself,    could 


200  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

stand  such  talk  as  that,  without  answering  back," 
soliloquized  she.  "  If  Aunt  Daisy  could  have 
heard  her  then  she  wouldn't  blame  me  so  much, 
I  guess,  if  I  can't  do  Avhat  she  wants  me  to.  I 
wish  I  was  deaf,  just  while  I'm  with  her.  It 
must  be  awful  easy  for  deaf  people  to  keep  from 
quarrelling.  But  Dora  Went  worth,  you  forget 
yourself!  you  are  a  missionary,  she's  a  savage; 
you  must  expect  to  hear  such  talk  from  her." 
With  that  Dora  lifted  her  head  proudly,  and 
approached  the  bed  again. 

"  I  came  to  ask  your  pardon  for  all  the  mean 
things  I  ever  did  to  you,"  said  she,  to  Anne. 

"  Ask  my  pardon  ?  "  repeated  Anne,  incredu- 
lously. 

"  Yes." 

"  It's  like  you  to  do  that,  unless  you  are 
thinking  of  something  else  you  are  going  to  do 
that  will  put  all  the  rest  of  your  mean  acts  in 
the  shade,"  said  Anne,  suspiciously. 

"  I'm  never  going  to  do  another  mean  act  if 
I  can  help  it,  and  I  think  I  can.  You  don't 
know  what  the  meanest  thing  was  I  ever  did 
to  you." 

"  Yes,  I  do.  You  put  that  nest  of  horrid  rats 
in  my  best  hat.     But  I  got  even  with  you." 


UNDER  ANNE'S  WINDOW.  201 

"  I  know  you  did,  and  to  get  even  with  you 
in  turn,  I  told  that  gipsy  to  steal  your  hat." 

"You  did?     You  told  her  to  steal  it?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Oh,  you  mean,  bad,  wicked  girl !  Won't  I 
tell  Aunt  Daisy  of  that !  "         ^■^ 

"She  knows  it  already." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  If  she  knew  it  she 
wouldn't  have  you  here,  any  longer ;  she'd  send 
you  back  to  where  you  came  from.  I  wish  she 
would  !  I  wish  she  would  !  " 

"But  she  does  know  all  about  it,  for  I  told 
her  myself." 

"  That  sounds  likely,  doesn't  it  ?  You  only 
say  that  to  keep  me  from  telKng  her.  I  wish 
she  would  come  in  this  minute  ;  but  I  shall  tell 
her  when  she  does  come!" 

"  Tell  her,  by  all  means.  You'd  never  get 
well  unless  you  did.  But  I  came  in  to  ask  your 
pardon  for  doing  it ;  have  I  got  it  ?  " 

"  No,  you  have  not !  " 

"  That's  all  I  wanted  to  know.  Of  course  it's 
all  the  same  to  me,  whether  I  have  or  not." 

With  that  Dora  left  the  room,  and,  running 
down  the  stairs,  seated  herself  on  the  chair  in 
the  entry,  then  puUed  out  her  handkercheif  to 
fan  herself  with. 


202  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

"Dora  Wentworth,  you  did  well!"  solilo- 
quized she.  "  You  might  have  done  better,  per- 
haps, if  you  had  been  like  Aunt  Daisy.  SJi^ 
could  have  talked  it  into  her  in  no  time,  and 
left  her  crying  great  tears  of  repentance  ;  but 
I  did  well  by  just  holding  my  tongue,  when  I 
could  have  said  so  much."  Dora  was  so  busy 
fanning  herself  and  soliloquizing,  that  she  did 
not  notice  Aunt  Daisy's  approach  until  that 
individual  stood  beside  her. 

"  I  want  to  hear  how  it  turned  out,"  said  she 
placing  a  hand  on  Dora's  shoulder,  and  smiling 
down  into  her  flushed  face. 

"  It  didn't  turn  out  as  you  would  have  made 
it.  She's  just  twice  as  mad  with  me  as  she 
ever  was  before." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  everything  you  told  me  to,  as  well  as 
I  could." 

"  And  she  is  angry  with  you   now  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  She  forgave  you,  though,  of  course." 

"No,  she  didn't." 

"  Then  she  is  meaner  than  I  took  her  to  be, 
and  your  '  mission '  will  be  more  difficult  than 
1  thought,  at  first," 


UNDER  ANNE'S   WINDOW.  203 

"  I'm  afraid  it  can't  be  done  by  me,  Aunt 
Daisy." 

"Discouraged  so  soon,  Dora?" 

"  I  wouldn't  be,  if  I  wasn't  so  much  like  her 
myself.  It  was  dreadful  hard  for  me  to  keep 
from  saying  aU  I  wanted  to." 

"What  did  you  want  to  say?" 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  her  just  what  I  thought  of 
her,  in  the  sharpest  words  I  could  think  of.  I 
didn't,  though,  it  wouldn't  have  done  her  any 
good  if  I  had." 

"  No.  The  only  way  to  do  her  good  is  the 
way  I  told  you.  It  wouldn't  be  so  hard  for  you 
Dora,  if  you  thought  less  of  yourself,  and  more 
of  her." 

"If  yoM  would  only  talk  to  her  a  little 
while." 

"  But  I  don't  intend  to.  I  want  you^  all 
alone,  to  do  this  good  work,  Dora,  as  much  for 
your  sake,  as  for  hers,  remember.  Now  I  will 
leave  you,  for  here  comes  Lucy."  With  that 
Aunt  Daisy  turned  away,  just  as  Lucy,  all  out 
of  breath  from  running,  joined  Dora,  saying : 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  all  alone 
in  this  hot  entry?  Oh,  I  see!  Aunt  Daisy  has 
been  talking  with  you." 


204  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

"Sit  down,  Roily.  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing." 

"Sit  down  here^  when  I'm  nearly  roasted  now! 
No,  I  thank  you;  come  out  under  the- elm  tree! 
there's  a  splendid  breeze  there,  and  it's  so  nice 
and  shady.  I've  got  the  funniest  book  out  there, 
too,  that  you  ever  set  eyes  on." 

Without  reply,  Dora  arose  to  follow  Lucy, 
and  they  were  soon  comfortably  seated  beneath 
the  great  elm  that  grew  so  near  Anne's  window. 

"  Now,  what  was  it  you  wanted  to  say  ?  " 
said  Lucy,  picking  up  a  book  from  the  grass, 
that  she  had  been  reading,  before  she  went  in 
search  of  Dora. 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about  Anne  Porter." 

It  was  strange  that  neither  of  them  noticed 
that  the  open  window  before  which  a  great 
branch  of  the  tree  was  dancing,  belonged  to 
Anne's  room,  arid  Anne  herself  was  near  enough 
to  hear  every  word  they  said. 
'    "  Have  you  seen  her  ?  "  questioned  Lucy. 

"Yes." 

"What  did  you  say  to  her,  and  she  to  you. 
I  want  to  hear  all  about  it,  now  I'm  sure  you 
didn't  get  in  a  quarrel." 

"  We  didn't  have    a   very  long   conversation. 


UNDER  ANNE'S  WINDO  W.  205 

I  didn't  feel  like  doing  missionary  work  when  I 
found  her  such  an  ungrateful  savage." 

"Was  she  ungrateful?" 

"  I  should  think  so.  She  didn't  even  thank 
me  for  what  I  did  for  her,  and  she  pretends  to 
think  that  I  burned  her  hand  out  of  malice." 

"Oh,  Dora,  she  knows  better  than  that!" 

"  Then  I  asked  her  pardon  for  all  the  mean 
things  I  had  ever  done  to  her,  and  she  wouldn't 
pardon  me ! " 

"  You  did  ask  her  pardon  f  "  exclaimed  Lucy, 
in  astonishment. 

"  Yes !  it  sounds  queer,  doesn't  it."  replied 
.Dora,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  didn't  think  you  would  ever  do  that,  and 
I  don't  believe  I  would  have  done  it  if  I  had 
been  in  your  place.  I  suppose  that  quill  will 
grow  out  again  now." 

"  No  it  won't.  I  must  expect  such  things  if 
I'm  to  be  a  missionary.  I  felt  mad  when  I  was 
with  her,  but  I  got  over  it  in  no  time.  If 
there's  any  such  a  thing  as  making  her  as  good 
a  girl  as  you  are,  Roily,  I'm  going  to  do  it.  I 
promised  Aunt  Daisy  I  would."  Lucy  listened 
to  those  words  with  much  satisfaction  on  her 
round,  good-natured  face.     Not  so,  Anne.     "Oh," 


206  ^^  ^S  ^  ^^A  VERS. 

exclaimed  she,  with  an  angry  jerk  at  the  bed- 
clothes, "  no  wonder  the  girls  were  no  more 
pleased  to  know  I'm  getting  well,  if  that's  the 
way  she  goes  round  talking  about  me.  What  a 
hateful,  hypocrite  she  is!  I  know,  now,  why  she 
asked  my  pardon !  Trying  to  make  them  all 
think  she's  a  saint !  Won't  I  show  her  up  wlien 
I  get  well !  and  I  must  get  well  fast,  or  there'll 
be  no  chance  for  me." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  READING   CLUB. 

|HE  children  at  Hive  Hall,  especially  the 
girls,  were  in  a  flutter  of  excitement, 
for  one  of  their  number  was  soon  to 
leave  them,  to  attend  a  boarding  school,  miles 
away,  where  he  could  receive  better  instruction 
than  good  Mrs.  Burns  could  give  him ;  for  Aunt 
Daisy  had  decided  that  Edgar  Ford  must  be  fitted 
to  enter  college,  much  to  his  satisfaction,  and  to 
the  secret  satisfaction  of  most  of  the  boys  ;  for, 
with  his  quick  understanding,  and  excellent 
memory,  he  gave  them  no  chance  to  win  any  of 
the  prizes  that  were  given  out  for  good  scholar- 
ship. 

All  the  girls,  but  Dora  Wentworth,  spent 
their  spare  minutes  working  book-marks  and 
handkerchiefs  for  him,  as  parting  gifts ;  Dora 
was  busy  carving  him  an  ink-stand  that  was  as 
original  in  design  as  it  was  amusing,  for  it  was 
a  burlesque  on  Edgar  himself.  207 


208  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

It  represented  a  very  small  boy,  with  a  very 
large  head,  who  was  seated  on  a  pile  of  books, 
and  many  books  were  scattered  about  all  around 
him ;  his  chin  rested  upon  his  hands,  and  his 
elbows  upon  a  large  book  that  was  in  his  lap  ; 
upon  his  face  was  an  exaggerated  smile  that 
was  supposed  to  represent  contentment.  In  his 
head  she  had  ingeniously  placed  the  bottle  that 
was  to  contain  the  ink. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  get  it  done  in  time 
to  give  him  before  he  goes  ?  interrogated  Lucy 
Stone,  who  was  standing  beside  Dora,  as  she 
worked,  a  few  days  before  Edgar's  departure. 

"  Of  course  ;  it's  almost  done  now.  Do  you 
think  it  looks  like  him  ? "  said  Dora,  holding 
the  ink-stand  out  at  arm's  length  for  inspection. 

"  Yes ;  only  it  isn't  near  so  good-looking," 
replied  Lucy.  "  He  would  like  it  better  if  it 
looked  just  like  him,  I  know." 

"  It's  likely  I'd  want  him  to  admire  himself 
every  time  he  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink.  I 
made  it  as  bad-looking  as  I  could  just  to  take 
the  conceit  out  of  him." 

"  Perhaps  he'll  think  you  are  making  fun  of 
him,  when  he  sees  it,  an'  will  get  mad." 

"  He's  got  too   much    sense  for  that ;   he  isn't 


THE  READING  CLUB.  209 

like  Anne  Porter.  He'll  laugh  at  it,  an'  like  it 
better  than  anything  else  he  gets,  perhaps.  I 
wonder  if  I  can't  make  his  nose  look  worse, 
without  spoiling  his  expression.  Think  I'll  try 
it  anyway." 

"  Do  you  know   what  Anne   made  for  him  ?  " 

"  No  ;  what  did  she  ?  '^ 

"A  book-mark  with  a  cat  on  it,  worked  in 
green  silk." 

"  Ha !  ha !  she  should  have  worked  a  pig 
instead,  then  he  would  have  her  picture  to 
remember  her  by." 

"  I  thought  you  had  given  up  calling  her  a 
pig,  Dora." 

"  I  have,  to  her  face,  but  to  you  what's  the 
odds  ?  You  know  what  she  is  as  well  as  I  do. 
Aunt  Daisy  said  I  could  make  her  generous  and 
noble,  by  being  generous  and  noble  myself,  in 
all  my  dealings  with  her.  I  have  done  the  best 
I  could,  and  treated  her  just  as  well  as  I  knew 
how,  ever  since  she  got  well,  and  you  know 
just  how  much  good  it  has  done.  She  hates  me 
worse  than  she  did  when  I  used  to  do  every- 
thing I  could  to  plague  her.  Aunt  Daisy  was 
wrong  for  once,  but  I  promised  her  I  wouldn't 
give  up  trying  to  make  a  saint  out   of  her,  so  I 

14 


210  DAISTTRAVERS 

can't  give  it  up  till  I  convince   her  it   can't  be 
done." 

"  What    do  you    think  of  the  reading   club  ?  " 

"  Reading  club  ?  "   repeated  Dora,  inquiringly. 

"  Yes ;  haven't  they  said  anything  to  you 
about  it?" 

"  I  haven't  heard  an}'Thing  about  any  reading 
club." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  could  have  helped  hear- 
ing about  it,  for  the  girls,  and  boys,  too,  are 
talking  about  it  all  the  time.  Dear  me  !  then 
you  are  not  a  member  !  That's  all  Anne  Porter's 
doings,  of  course." 

"  You  seem  to  know  what  you're  talkiT)g 
about.  I'm  thankful  for  that,"  said  Dora,  with 
a  comical  look  of  perplexity. 

"  The  oldest  scholars  have  formed  a  reading 
club,"  explained  Lucy.  "  Aunt  Daisy  approved 
of  the  plan,  and  she  said  we  could  have  ihe 
hall  two  evenings  out  of  every  week  to  meet  in. 
We  are  to  read  stories  and  play  games,  and, 
Aunt  Daisy  said  she  would  get  Mr.  Milly  to 
come  often,  and  play  on  the  violin,  while  Mrs. 
Burns  plays  on  the  piano  for  us." 

"  How  long  have  they  been  talking  about 
it  ?  "  questioned   Dora,  the   expression  upon   her 


THE  READING  CLUB.  211 

face  proving  that  she  was  surprised  at  the  infor- 
mation. 

"  Nearly  a  week.  They  are  to  have  their 
first  meeting  to-morrow  evening." 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  something  to  me  about 
it,  before  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  unless  it  was  because  we 
talked  so  much  about  Edgar's  going  away,  and 
the  ink-stand,  I  didn't  think  to  mention  it.  I 
was  sure  you  knew  all  about  it,  too,  and  would 
speak  to  me  about  it  when  you  felt  like  it." 

"  Are  you  a  member  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  won't  be  one  unless  they  ask 
you." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  lose  any  fun  on- my 
account.  Roily.  I  wonder  if  Aunt  Daisy  knows 
that  I'm  left  out  in  the  cold." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  does.  She  wouldn't  have 
such  actions,  I  know.  She'll  make  them  take 
you  in,  if  you  tell  her." 

"  Then  I'll  not  teU  her.  It  isn't  Hkely  I'd 
want  to  go  to  their  old  club  if  thej''  don't  want 
me.  That  accounts  for  the  way  the  girls  have 
acted  for  two  or  three  days  past  ;  I'd  see  them 
talking  together  fast  enough  about  something, 
but  just  as  soon  as   I'd  join  them,  they'd  begin 


212  DAISr  TRAVBRS. 

to  talk  about  the  weather.  I  couldn't  under- 
stand it  at  all;  now  it's  plain  enough.  Anne 
Porter  has  succeeded  in  setting  all  the  girls 
against  me." 

''All,  Dora?" 

"Of  course  I  know  she  couldn't  do  anything 
with  you ;  and  I'm  all  right  so  long  as  the  best 
girl  in  school  stays  by  me.  How  I  should  enjoy 
all  this  if  I  wasn't  tied  by  my  promise  to  Aunt 
Daisy." 

"Enjoy  it?" 

"Yes.  It  would  be  just  what  I'd  like,  this 
being  left  out  in  the  cold  by  such  a  crowd.  I'd 
manage  to  astonish  them  some  way,  every  time 
the  club  met." 

"  Aunt  Daisy  has  just  come  in ;  I'm  going 
down  to  speak  to  her,"  said  Lucy  suddenly  turn- 
ing to  leave  the  room. 

"  RoUy,  stop !  don't  say  anything  to  her  about 
their  not  asking  me  to  join  the  club." 

"  That's  what  1  want  to  speak  to  her  about." 

"  If  you  do,  Roily " 

"  Well,  what  if  I  do  ?  Isn't  it  better  for  her 
to  know  it  now,  than  to  let  her  miss  you,  the 
first  evening  the  club  meets,  then  have  her  se'nd 
for  you  ?  You'd  feel  nice,  then,  wouldn't  you, 
to  have  to  go  in  before  them  all?." 


THE  READING  CLUB.  213 

"  Do  you  think  she  would  really  send  for  me, 
if  she  didn't  see  me  there?  " 

"  Of  course  she   would." 

"  Well  then,  tell  her,  if  you  want  to,  only  be 
sure  to  add  that  I  wouldn't  join  the  club  any 
way,  for  the  world.  If  you  don't  make  her 
believe  that,  you  won't  do  me  a  bit  of  good. 
Roily." 

Without  replying,  Lucy  left  the  room  to  seek 
Aunt  Daisy,  who  was  talking  with  Mrs.  Burns 
in  the  school-room.  School  had  been  dismissed 
for  some  time,  and  not  a  scholar  was  present, 
much  to  Lucy's  satisfaction,  as  she  entered,  and 
waited  for  Aunt  Daisy  to  finish  her  conversa- 
tion with  Mrs.  Burns,  before  speaking  to  her. 

She  did  not  have  to  wait  long.  Aunt  Daisy's 
business  with  the  teacher  was  soon  completed, 
an'S  she  approached  Lucy  with  that  smile  which 
made  it  so  easy  for  all  the  children  to  go  to  her 
with  their  troubles.  After  learning  that  Lucy 
had  something  private  to  communicate,  she  led 
her  away  to  her  study,  where  she  usually  heard 
all  the  children's  complaints. 

Ten  minutes  later  Lucy  was  with  Dora  agaiu. 
"  What  did  she  say  about  it  ? "  questioned  the 
latter,  as  she  entered. 


214  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  She  wants  to  see  you  right  away." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

"That  I  don't  know.  You'll  have  to  tell  me 
when  you  come  back.  I'll  take  care  of  the  ink- 
stand for  you.  Hurry !  so  as  not  to  keep  her 
waiting."  "With  ihat  Lucy  took  Dora's  work 
from  her  hands,  with  an  air  of  authority  that 
proved  irresistable. 

"  I'm  going,  only  don't  let  anything  happen 
to  that;  I  couldn't  make  another,  you  know," 
cautioned  Dora,  as  she  left  the  room. 

Lucy  sat  down  to  await  her  return,  with  the 
ink-stand  in  her  hand.  It  claimed  her  attention 
for  a  while,  then  she  arose  and  placed  it  care- 
fully on  the  bureau,  and  opening  a  drawer,  took 
from  it  her  own  work,  which  proved  to  be  a 
handkerchief,  on  which  she  was  embroidering 
the  name  of  Edgar  Ford,  in  fancy  letters.  She 
worked  at  that  an  hour,  then  the  supper  bell 
rang,  and  she  arose  to  brush  her  hair,  before 
going  down,  just  as  Dora  rushed  into  the  room, 
her  face  radiant. 

"  What  did  Aunt  Daisy  say  ? "  questioned 
Lucy,  turning;  as  she  was  tying  back  her  hair, 
to  look  in  Dora's  face  as  she  entered. 

*'  Oh,  such  fun.  Roily,  if  I  can  only  do  it  1 " 
was  Dora's  incomprehensible  answer. 


THE  READING  CLUB.  215 

"  What  are  you  going  to  \xj_  to  do  ? " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  now.  "Wait  till  after  sup- 
per. I  wouldn't  tell  you  then,  if  I  could  help 
myself,  because  I'm  so  afraid  you'll  let  it  out ; 
for  its  a  dead  secret,  RoUy." 

"  A  dead  one?" 

"Yes." 

"  That's  all  I  want  to  know  about  it.  You 
can  keep  it  to  yourself,"  replied  Lucy,  who  was 
just  a  little  offended  with  Dora,  for  sjjeaking  as 
though  she  doubted  her  ability  to  keep  a  secret. 

"  Oh,  but  I  can't  keep  it  to  myself ;  you  have 
got  to  be  let  into  it,  or  else  you'd  spoil  all  the 
fun." 

"I'd  spoil  all  the  fun?" 

"  I  don't  mean  intentionally,  of  course.  Roily. 
You'd  spoil  it  without  meaning  to,  or  knowing 
what  you  were  doing.  But  it's  no  use  trying  to 
make  you  understand  until  you  hear  the  whole. 
Won't  I  have  to  make  sure  Anne  Porter  isn't 
listening,  when  I  tell  you  I  Are  [you  ready  to 
go  down  to  supper  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  are  not.  How  your  hair  doei 
look." 

"  Where's  the  brush  ?  There  !  I  can't  bother 
any  more  with   it,  now,"  and  Dora,   after  draw- 


216  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

ing    the    brush    quickly    over    her    hair,  once    or 
twice,  expressed  her  readiness  to  go  down  stairs. 

As  the  two  girls  entered  the  dining-room, 
Aunt  Daisy  entered  it  also  through  another  door. 
The  other  children  were  all  in  their  places,  and 
looked  inquiringly  at  Aunt  Daisy,  as  she  entered, 
for  it  was  something  unusual  to  have  her  with 
them  at  supper-time.  Going  up  to  Lucy,  she 
said,  in  a  tone  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear: 

"  Dora  wanted  me  to  tell  you,  Lucy,  that  you- 
mustn't  think  of  leaving  the  reading  club  on  her 
account.  I  am  very  sorry,  as  all  will  be,  to 
know  that  one  of  the  best  readers  isn't  willing 
to  join  the  club ;  but  we  mustn't  .  be  selfish. 
_Dora  is  ambitious  to  be  a  great  artist  one  of 
these  days,  and  she  cannot  waste  her  time  read- 
ing stories  and  playing  games." 

"  Perhaps  she'd  join  if  we  should  ask  her," 
said  Anne  Porter,  sarcastically,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  members  of  the  club. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed  she  wouldn't,"  replied  Aunt 
Daisy,  pretending  not  to  notice  the  sarcasm  in 
Anne's  voice.  "  I  tried  my  best  to  persuade  her 
to,  and  it's  useless  to  tease  her  any  more.  You 
will  lose  by  it,  of  course ;  but,  when  you  con- 
sider how  much  she  is  gaining,  you  will  not  be 
so  selfish  as  to  want  her  with  you,  I  know." 


THE  READING  CLUB.  217 

This  speech  caused  Anne's  face  to  turn  red 
with  anger ;  she  wanted  to  reply,  but  did  not 
dare  to,  for  fear  of  seriously  offending  Aunt 
Daisy. 

Dora  took  her  place  at  the  table,  with  an  air 
that  convinced  them  all  that  she  knew  nothing 
about  their  plan  of  not  letting  her  become  a 
member  of  the  reading  club. 

"  Some  one  got  the  start  of  you,  that  time, 
Anne  ! "  said  a  girl,  named  Emma  Goodwin,  as 
Aunt  Daisy  left  the  dining-room,  which  she  did 
after  a  few  more  words  to  Lucy. 

"  It  will  be  all  the  same  in  the  end,  no  mat- 
ter which  got  the  start,"  replied  Anne,  signifi- 
cantly. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  make  that  out," 
replied  Emma. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ? "  inquired 
Dora,  looking  up  with  a  very  innocent  expres- 
sion on  her  face. 

"  Nothing  much.  Why  don't  you  want  to 
join  the  club?"  said  Emma,  with  a  sly  wink  to 
a  girl  near  her. 

"  Because  it's  bad  enough  to  have  to  read  in 
school,  without  reading  two  evenings  out  of 
every  week ;  and  you  know  I  don't  like  to  play 


218  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

games.       Nothing     would     tempt     me     to    join 
unless " 

"  Unless  what  ?  "  questioned  two  or  three  girls, 
for  Dora  looked  unusually  serious. 

"  Unless  you  were  going  to  have  refresh- 
ments." 

"  Refreshments  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  cake  and  lemonade,  for  instance,  just 
before  it's  through." 

"I  don't  believe  Aunt  Daisy  would  let  us 
have  that,"  said  Emma,  thoughtfully. 

"  Neither  do  T  believe  she  would ;  that's  why 
I'd  rather  be  at  work  in  my  own  room.  I'm 
going  to  begin  a  life-size  bust  of  Aunt  Daisy, 
next  week." 

"  So  you're  going  to  be  a  great  sculptoress, 
one  of  these  days,"  said  Mrs.  Shote,  the  house- 
keeper, with  a  broad  smile.  "  You  didn't  know 
that  I  am  a  poetess,  did  j^ou  ?  " 

"  You  a  poetess  ?  "  exclaimed  Dora  in  surprise, 
M'hile  all  eyes  were  instantly  fixed  on  the  house- 
keeper's face. 

"  Yes.  I'll  tell  you  how  I  came  to  know  it. 
I  used  to  keep  house  once  for  a  family  that  had 
a  little  girl.  Well,  that  little  girl  used  to  be 
near  crazy  about   poetry  ;  so   one  day   she  comes 


THE  READING  CLUB.  219 

to  me,  an'  says  she,  '  Mrs.  Shote,  I'm  going  to 
be  a  poetess,  when  I  grow  up.'  Says  I,  'Jennie, 
can  you  tell  me  what  poetess  means  ? '  She 
looked  mad  for  a  minute,  then  says  she :  '  A 
poetess  means  one  who  loves  beans,'  then  she 
flounced  away,  but  she  never  said  anything  more 
to  me  about  being  a  poetess,  an'  I've  called 
myself  one  ever  since,  for  I  am  fond  of  beans 
that's  a  fact."  As  soon  as  the  laugh  that  fol- 
lowed the  housekeeper's  definition  of  a  poetess 
had  subsided,  Anne  Porter  said,  sarcastically : 
"  Perhaps  our  great  artist  can  tell  us  what 
sculptoress  means." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Dora,  smiling  quietly.  "  A 
sculptoress  is  one  who  can  bust  anybody's 
head." 

"  An  elegant  definition ;  but  I  must  say  it 
suits  your  case,  exactly,"  replied  Anne,  with  a 
sneer. 

"  They  are  usually  smart  enough  to  get  along 
without  the  help  of  a  'porter  1  "  interposed  Lucy, 
who  knew  that  Dora's  tongue  was  tied  by  her 
promise  to  Aunt  Daisy. 

*'  Was  anybody  speaking  to  you  ? "  inter- 
rogated Anne  Porter,  angrily.  "  If  you  are  not 
more  civil  you  shall  not  be  a  member  of  the 
readinsf  club." 


220  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  Who  says  so  ? "  questioned  Lucy,  with  a 
good-natured  smile  on  her  round  face." 

"I  do.  I  am  the  one  that  got  it  up,  and  I'm 
president  of  it." 

"  It  won't  be  a  great  while  before  you  are 
the  only  member,  then,"  Lucy  was  about  to 
reply,  but  Dora's  foot  came  down  upon  hers 
with  such  force,  under  the  table,  that  the  words 
died  away  into  a  low  cry  of  pain,  that  Anne 
took  for  an  exclamation  of  surprise  at  the  infor- 
mation she  had  just  given  her,  which  pacified 
her,  greatly. 

"  "We  couldn't  get  along  without  Lucy !  "  said 
one  of  the  members,  to  which  the  others  imme- 
diately agreed,  for  she  was  a  general  favorite 
with  them  all. 

Lucy  arose  from  the  table  without  making  a 
reply,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  dining-room 
was  quite  deserted. 

As  soon  as  Dora  and  Lucy  reached  their  own 
room,  Dora  pushed  the  bed  up  against  the  door, 
then  sat  down  near  the  window  to  whisper  to 
Lucy  her  great  secret. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BELLE  CLEVERLY. 

J^(^?^HE  next  evening  at    seven   o'clock,    the 
^!'rl    i    members  of  the  reading  club   were   all 

(^J  ■"    '5) 

t;  ;^  assembled  in  the  hall,  at  Hive  Hall, 
and  that  room  presented  a  lively  appearance. 
The  lamps  were  all  lighted,  and  Mrs.  Burns  was 
plajang  a  sprightly  melody  on  the  piano,  while 
some  thirty  neatly  dressed  boys  and  girls  [only 
nine  of  which  belonged  to  the  school,  the  others 
being  children  who  resided  in  the  neighborhood,] 
were  talking,  and  laughing  together ;  for  the 
president  had  not  yet  called  the  club  to  order. 
Presently  Aunt  Daisy  entered,  leading  a  richly 
dressed  girl  by  the  hand. 

"  This  is  a  little  friend  of  mine,  who  is  visit- 
ing me.  Don't  let  her  presence  interfere  with 
your  enjoyment.  She  can  sit  on  the  platform, 
here,  beside  Mrs.  Burns,  where  she  won't  be  in 
anybody's  way,"   explained   Aunt  Daisy,  as  she 

221 


222  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

placed  a  chair  near  Mrs.  Burns,  for  her  young 
friend. 

"Who  is  she?"  "Did  you  ever  see  her 
before  ?  "  "  What's  her  name  ?  "  "Isn't  she 
dressed  to  kill  ? "  were  some  of  the  whispers 
that  passed  around  among  the  children,  as 
they  looked  at  the  stranger.  While  Anne  Porter, 
whose  passion  for  fine  clothes  was  well  known, 
looked  on  her  with  admiring  eyes. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  her  to  join  us  ?  "  whis- 
pered Lucy  Stone,  to  Anne. 

"Yes,  that's  so,"  said  Ella  Myers,  who  had 
heard  Lucy's  whisper,  as  she  stood  beside  Anne. 
"  Nobody  wants  her  sitting  up  there,  staring  at 
us,  all  the  evening." 

Anne  went  immediately  up  t6  Aunt  Daisy, 
saying:  "We  would  be  pleased  to  have  your 
friend  join  us  if  she  would  like  to." 

'  This  is  the  president  of  the  club,  Anne 
Porter,  Belle  Cleverly,"  said  Aunt  Daisy,  intro- 
ducing the  two.  "  You  heard  what  Anne  said, 
would  you  like  to  join  them  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  should,  very  much.  Miss  Porter," 
replied  Belle,  to  Anne's  great  delight.  It  was 
the  first  time  she  had  ever  been  called  i!/m 
Porter,    and  to  have   that   title    conferred   upon 


BELLE  CLEVERLT.  £23 

her    for    the    first    time  by  such   a  handsomely- 
dressed  young  lady,  was  gratifying,  indeed. 

*'  If  you  will  come  with  me  I  will  introduce 
you  to  some  of  them,"  said  she,  and  Belle 
immediately  pushed  her  neatly  gloved  hand 
through  Anne's  arm  and  walked  with  he^ 
towards  the  centre  of  the  hall. 

"  I'll  introduce  you  to  our  head  boy,  first," 
said  Anne.  "  That  is  the  one,  at  the  right.  He 
is  a  great  scholar,  and  is  going  away  to  a  higher 
school,  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  introduced  to  him,"  said 
Belle.  "  I  don't  like  to  talk  with  smart  scholars. 
I'm  always  afraid  they'll  try  to  find  out  how 
much  I  know ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  it's  as 
much  as  I  can  do  to  tell  which  came  first  — 
Henry  VII  or  Henry  VIII.  "  Who  is  that  fat, 
good-natured  looking  girl  ?  " 

"  That  is  Lucy  Stone.  I'U  introduce  you  to 
her,  if  you  say  so." 

"  Yes.  Dear  me  I  I  wish  you  weren't  the 
president!" 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  don't  suppose  I'll  have  any  chance 
to  talk  with  you,  you'll  have  so  much  to  do ; 
and  I'd  a  great  deal  rather  talk  with  you,  than 


224  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

with  any  one  else  that's  here,  for  it  seems  to 
me  as  though  we  had  known  each  other  for  a 
long  while,  I  really  should  think  you  belonged 
to  our  school,  you  dress  so  much  better  than 
any  one  else  that's  here." 

Anne  flushed  with  pleasure  at  this  flattering 
remark  from  Aunt  Daisy's  gaily-dressed  young 
friend.  She  was  better  dressed  than  were  the 
other  children  at  Hive  Hall ;  for,  as  all  the 
scholars,  when  they  had  won  a  prize  for  good 
scholarship  or  deportment,  were  allowed  to 
decide  what  the  prize  should  be,  she  had  always 
chosen  some  article  of  dress,  while  the  others 
preferred  pets,  games,  toys,  etc.  She  had  com- 
pared her  appearance  with  theirs,  this  evening, 
many  times  before,  but  never  with  so  much  sat- 
isfaction as  now ;  but  she  had  no  chance  to 
reply  to  Belle's  remark,  for  they  had  stopped 
before  Lucy  Stone,  who  looked  at  the  stranger 
with  something  like  fright  in  her  round  eyes. 

"  Miss  Cleverly,  Lucy  Stone,"  pronounced 
Anne,  with  an  air  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  Fifth  Avenue  belle ;  it  proved  too  mucli 
for  Lucy's  gravity,  however,  for  her  frightened 
look  suddenly  vanished,  and  she  greeted  Miss 
Cleverly   with  a   half-suppressed  snicker.     Anne 


BELLE  CLEVERLT.  225 

turned  red  with  anger,  but  Belle's  look  of 
astonishment  brought  Lucy  to  her  senses. 

"I  am  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance," 
said  she,  holding  out  one  of  her  plump,  dim- 
pled hands,  which  Belle  merely  touched  with 
the  tip  end  of  her  gloved  fingers ;  then  putting 
her  hand  again  in  Anne's  arm  she  walked  her 
away. 

"  That  is  an  exceedingly  ill-bred  girl,  I  should 
say,"  said  she,  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of 
Lucy's  hearing.  "  She  doesn't  do  Daisy  much 
credit." 

"  The  fact  is  she  has  got,  for  her  friend,  one 
of  the  worst  girls  in  school,  and,  of  course,  she 
is  learning  her  ways  fast." 

"  Is  that  so  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  is  the  worst  girl  in  school  ?  " 

"  Her  name  is  Dora  Wentworth." 

"  Can't  you  point  her  out  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  isn't  here.  Of  course  I  wouldn't 
let  her  become  a  member  of  the  club." 

"  Of  course  not.  I  didn't  think  when  I  spoke. 
"Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Up  stairs  in  her  own  room,  whittling  away 
at  an  old  block  of  wood." 

**  Whittling  ?  "  15 


226  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

"  Yes ;  she  would  like  to  make  every  one 
believe  that  she  is  going  to  be  a  great  sculp- 
toress,  one  of  these  days,  so  she  whittles  all  the 
time  to  convince  us." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  Daisy  would  let  her  waste 
her  time  so." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Daisy  likes  to  have  her  ;  it  keeps 
her  out  of  mischief,  you  know." 

"  So  it  must.  Dear  me !  I  should  think  you 
would  be  tired  to  death  being  Avith  such  girls. 
You  ought  to  go  to  school  where  I  go  ;  all  the 
girls  are  perfect  ladies,  and  dress  every  day  as 
well,  if  not  better,  than  I  am  dressed  to-night." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  find  time  to  dress  so 
every  day,"  said  Anne,  looking  at  Belle's  elabo- 
rate toilet  with  a  sigh. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  we  have  to  do.  We  don't  do 
much  studying,  I  can  tell  you,  unless  it  is  to 
study  the  fashions.  But  they  are  all  looking  at 
you  as  though  they  expected  you  to  do  some- 
thing," continued  Belle,  for  Mrs.  Burns  had 
stopped  playing,  and  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
president,  who  immediately  led  Belle  to  a  seat, 
then  stepped  upon  the  platform,  and  called  the 
meeting  to  order.  Then  followed  the  reading  of 
prose    and    poetry,  and    after    that   Mrs.    Burns 


BULLE  CLEVERLr.  £27 

took  her  seat  at  the  piano  again,  which  act  the 
children  seemed  to  consider  as  a  signal  for  them 
to  resume  their  conversation,  which  they  did, 
with  renewed  vigor. 

"  Which  do  you  think  is  the  best  reader  ?  " 
said  Anne  Porter  to  Belle  Cleverly,  as  she  took 
a  seat  beside  her. 

"  Your  best  scholar,  by  all  means.  What  did 
you  say  his  name  was  ?  " 

"  Edgar  Ford  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he's  the  best  reader  I  ever  heard,  if 
he  does  belong  to  this  school." 

Anne  looked  towards  Edgar,  and  was  silent. 
She  had  asked  the  question  hoping  to  hear  her 
own  name  mentioned,  for  she  had  done  her  best 
to  read  effectively ;  however  she  soon  consoled 
herself  with  the  thought  that  Belle  was  no 
scholar,  and  so  could  not  be  capable  of  judging 
correctly. 

"  What  a  queer  voice  that  Belle  Cleverly  has 
got,"  said  a  tall,  thin  girl  to  Lucy. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  her  voice  ?  "  inter- 
rogated Lucy. 

"  It  sounds  to  me  as  though  she  had  some- 
thing in  her  mouth.  She  doesn't  seem  to  want 
to  get  acquainted,  much,  after  all." 


228  -O^  ^S  ^  T^^  VERS. 

"  The  way  I  acted  discouraged  her  from  being 
introduced  to  any  one  else,  I  suppose.  1  wish  I 
didn't  have  to  laugh  just  when  I  ought  not  to," 
said  Lucy,  her  face  almost  serious. 

"  What  made  you  laugh,  then  ?  " 

"  The  way  Anne  introduced  us.  I  never  saw 
such  airs  as  she  did  put  on." 

"  She'll  be  likely  to  put  on  airs  after  this, 
since  Aunt  Daisy's  friend  has  taken  such  a 
liking  to  her.  Whom  does  she  remind  you 
of?" 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?  "     Miss  Cleverly  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  don't  know.  Does  she  remind  you  of  any 
one?" 

"  Yes ;  she  looks  like  Dora  Went  worth  to 
me." 

"I  should  think  she  did;  with  that  low  fore- 
head, and  white  face!  She  isn't  half  so  good 
looking  as  Dora,  I  think." 

"  I  think  she's  better  looking  ;  but  it's  too 
bad  she's  got  such  a  dreadfully  queer  voice.  It 
makes  me  nervous  to  hear  her  talk." 

*'  I  didn't  notice  anything  out  of  the  way 
about  it." 

"You  must  be   deaf,  then.     There,  the  presi- 


BELLE  CLEVERLr.  229 

dent  has  left  her !  Why  don't  you  go  up  and 
speak  to  her  ?  You  are  the  only  one  that  has 
been  introdaced." 

"  I'd  be  afraid  she  wouldn't  answer  me." 

"  I  would  want  to,  if  I  were  you,  just  to 
prove  that  you  have  some  manners,  if  nothing 
else." 

"Very  well,  then;  I'll  go  and  speak  to  her, 
and  I  shan't  grow  gray  if  she  doesn't  answer 
me."  "With  that  Lucy  walked  over  toward  the 
stranger,  and  took  the  seat  beside  her  that  Anne 
had  just  vacated.  ♦ 

Anne  who  had  gone  to  speak  with  Aunt 
Daisy  about  starting  some  games,  was  gratified 
to  see  that  Lucy  was  treated  in  a  cool  or  indif- 
ferent manner  by  the  fashionable  Belle,  and  as 
soon  as  possible  she  returned  to  her  side,  pre- 
ferring her  company  to  joining  in  the  game. 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  Aunt  Daisj'  a  long 
visit !  "  said  she  as  she  returned  to  Belle. 

"  I  shall  stay  till  after   Christmas." 

"  That  will  be  nearly  a  month." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wish  the  girls  here  were  more  like  the 
girls  that  go  to  your  school ;  then  you  would 
enjoy  coming  to  our  club  every  time  it  meets." 


230  ^A  IS  r  TRA  VERS. 

"  I  should  enjoy  it,  as  it  is.  I  like  to  watch 
them,  and  hear  them  read ;  and  if  I  do  not 
interfere  with  your  duties  as  president,  I  should 
be  glad  to  come  every  time." 

"  Of  course  you  do  not  interfere  with  my 
duties  as  president.  What  I  have  to  do  is  easily 
done." 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  join  in  the  game  with 
your  stylish  friends  ?  "  said  Belle,  with  a  depre- 
cating smile. 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  do  not  care  to  play,"  replied 
Anne,  who  had  always  enjoyed  having  her  share 
in  a  game  before. 

*'  I  shouldn't  think  you  would,  they  are  so 
rude."  Then  pulling  out  the  handsomest  little 
gold  watch  Anne  had  ever  seen,  she  looked  at 
it  carelessly,  and  continued :  "  Half  past  eight. 
Daisy  said  she  was  going  home  at  that  time, 
because  Mr.  Milly  isn't  very  well.  I  shall  have 
to  say  good-by,"  and  rising,  she  held  a  gloved 
hand  for  Anne  to  shake. 

"  I  shall  look  for  you  at  our   next  meeting." 

"  I  shall  be  here  if  nothing  happens." 

Ten  minutes  afterwards,  as  Anne  was  sitting 
all  alone,  watching  her  companions,  and  think- 
ing of  the  new  acquaintance  she  had  made,  a 
girl  came  up  to  her,  saying : 


BELLE  CLEVERLT.  231 

"  Come,  Anne,  we  want  just  one  more  to 
play  this  game." 

"  I  don't  want  to  play.  I  detest  such  child- 
ish games." 

"  You  played  it  only  yesterday,  you  know 
you  did !  " 

"  Well,  I  played  it  then  to  please  you.  You 
can't  expect  me  to  do  it  every  day." 

"  Won't  she  come  ?  "  questioned  the  waiting 
children,  as  their  companion  returned. 

"  No ; "  replied   the  girl,  she   says  she   detests 
such  childish  games,  and  her  pug   nose  went  iS^  « 
half  an  inch  higher."  V 

"  Nice  president  she  is,  I  don't  think," 
exclaimed  a  boy  in  disgust. 

"  Let's  send  for  Dora,  just  to  plague  her," 
said  Ella  Meyers. 

"  Dora  wouldn't  come  down,  I  know,"  said 
Lucy  quickly.  "  She's  just  as  busy  as  she  can 
be." 

"  Then  we'U  have  to  play  something  else," 
said  Edgar  Ford,  but  Mrs.  Burns  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  proved  that  she  did  not  detest 
childish  games,  by  taking  the  vacant  place  her- 
self, so  good-naturedl}^  that  the  children  enjoyed 
it  more  than  they  would  have  done,  had  Anne 
joined  them  instead. 


232  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

The  next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  Mr. 
Milly's  carriage  stopped  at  Hive  Hall,  to  take 
Edgar  and  his  baggage  to  the  depot. 

He  had  been  greatly  surprised,  after  break- 
fast, by  the  number  of  gifts  he  had  received 
from  the  girls.  He  counted  eighteen  book-marks, 
fourteen  handkerchiefs,  and  something  that  he 
had  been  told  were  slippers,  but  what  earthly 
good  they  were,  he  could  not  see,  as  there  were 
no  soles  to  them.  He  was  about  to  put  all 
those  articles  in  his  trunk,  when  Dora  approached 
him  with  a  paste-board  box  in  her  hand,  that 
was  securely  tied  up.  This  she  oifered  to  him, 
saying  it  was  a  parting  gift  from  her. 

Edgar  looked  at  the  box  suspiciously  for  a 
moment,  then  with  a  knowing  smile,  shook  his 
head. 

"  What !  won't  you  take  it  ? "  said  Dora, 
incredulously. 

"  Let's  see  what's  in  it  first." 

"  No,  sir !  it  mustn't  be  opened  until  you 
arrive  at  school." 

"  If  I  didn't  know  you  pretty  well,  Dora,  I 
might  take  it;  then  I'd  wish  I  hadn't,  when  I 
opened  it,  and  found  it  full  of  ground  worms, 
or  something  equally  interesting." 


BELLE  CLEVERLY.  233 

"Edgar  Ford!" 

"  Exactly." 

"  Do  you  really  thiDk  I'd  do  anything  so 
mean  as  that  ? " 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  remember  what  you  had 
on  the  Christmas  tre'e  for  me  last  year,  a  good- 
looking  box  enough,  full  of  soap." 

"Well,  soap  is  a  good  thing,  isn't  it?" 

"  But  it  was  soft-soap,  remember.  I  was 
called  by  that  name  so  long,  I  don't  care  to  get 
a  new  one,  thank  you." 

"  Honestly  and  truly,  this  is  nothing  of  the 
kind;  and  if  you  don't  take  it  you'll  be  sorry, 
that's  all,  for  I'll  just  show  it  to  you  then  burn 
it  up ;  see  if  I  don't."  Dora's  manner  was  so 
earnest,  that  Edgar  was  partly  convinced;  and 
he  took  the  box,  reluctantly. 

"  Will  it  break  if  it  drops  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Yes  ;  so  be  careful  of  it." 

"Then  it's  bad  eggs  that's  in  it." 

"  Give  it  back  to  me,  if  you  think  so." 

"  No,  I  won't,  but  I'll  make  sure  no  one  is 
around  when  I  open  it." 

"  You  can  do  that,  and  welcome.  Now  let 
me  see  you  put  it  in  your  trunk." 

"  They  were  standing   in  the  entry   where  his 


234  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

trunk  had  been  taken,  and  Edgar  immediately 
stooped  down  and  unlocked  it,  then  packed 
awaj  the  book-marks,  handkerchiefs,  slippers, 
and  the  box  from  Dora. 

"  You  will  write  and  let  me  know  how  you 
like  it,  won't  you  ?  "  said  she,  with  a  satisfied 
smile,  after  the  trunk  had  been  locked  again. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course." 

"  Good-by,  then,  for  here  is  the  carriage,"  and 
at  that  moment  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  door. 
Aunt  Daisy  was  in  it,  for  she  was  going  to 
accompany  Edgar  as  far  as  the  depot,  to  give 
liim  some  parting  words  of  good  advice. 

Edgar  assisted  the  driver  to  strap  his  trunk 
to  the  back  of  the  carriage,  then,  entering  it, 
he  was  driven  away,  with  the  sound  of  many 
"good-bys"  ringing  in  his  ears,  from  the  chil- 
dren who  had  assembled  to  see  him  off. 

"  What  was  in  that  box  that  Dora  "Went- 
worth  gave  him  ?  "  said  Anne  Porter  to  Lucy, 
as  soon  as  the  carriage  was  out  of  sight. 

"  A  present,"  replied  Lucy. 

"  I  supposed  it  was ;  but  can't  you  tell  me 
what  kind  of  a   present !  " 

"  The  handsomest  one  he  had  from  us,  I 
think." 


BELLE  CLEVERLT.  235 

"  Your  opinion  isn't  worth  much,"  replied 
Anne,  sarcastically,  as  she  turned  to  walk  away. 
She  would  have  given  much  to  know  what  the 
box  contained,  but  it  would  never  do  to  let 
Dora  learn  that  she  was  at  aU  interested  in  any 
thing  she  did. 

"  What  did  she  say  was  in  the  box  ?  "  ques- 
tioned Maria  Hurd,  [who  had  heard  what  Anne 
said,  but  not  Lucy's  answer,  ]  as  Anne 
approached  her. 

"  She  didn't  say.  Soft  soap,  very  likely.  You 
couldn't  expect  it  would  be  much,  from  her. 
He  was  foolish  to  take  it." 

"  He  is  going  to  write  to  her,  and  let  her 
know  how  he  likes  it,  whatever  it  is." 

"  He  is  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  heard  him  say  so,  just  before  he 
went.     But  I  think  I  know  what's  in  the  box." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  She  bought  some  oranges  down  town,  yes- 
terday, and  when  she  saw  I  saw  them,  she  said 
she  would  give  me  one,  only  she  had  bought 
them  for  somebody,  and  there  were  scarcely 
enough  to  give,  as  it  was." 

"  That  is  it,  then.  Strange  I  didn't  think  of 
it    before !     She    pretended    that    those    oranges 


236  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

were  for  Mrs.  Johnson's  little  girl,  whio  is  sick. 
Didn't  I  tell  you  she  was  a  mean  hypocrite  ? 
That  was  done  to  make  Aunt  Daisy  think  she's 
awfully  good,  to  spend  her  money  for  poor  sick 
girls ;  don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Did  she  tell  you  that  she  bought  them  for 
Mrs.  Johnson's  girl  ?  " 

"  She  didn't ;  Lucy  did.  Lucy  is  getting  to 
be  just  as  bad  as  she  is.  I  never  was  so  morti- 
fied in  my  life,  as  I  was  when  I  introduced  Miss 
Cleverly  to  her  last  evening.  It's  a  wonder  she 
took  such  a  liking  to  me  as  she  did,  when  she 
saw  what  kind  of  girls  I'm  obliged  to  associate 
with,"  and  Anne  bestowed  a  contemptuous 
glance  at  Dora  and  Lucy,  who  were  approach- 
ing, arm  in  arm,  and  talking  away  as  though 
they  had  just  met  after  a  long  separation,  and 
there  was  lots  of  news  to  tell  on  both  sides. 

"  I  say,  Dora  !  won't  you  tell  me  what  you 
gave  Edgar  for  a  present  ? "  said  Ella  Meyers, 
who  came  after  them,  and  placed  her  hand  on 
Dora's  shoulder. 

*'  Certainly :  a  caricaturical  receptacle  for  writ- 
ing fluid,"  replied  Dora  with  a  laugh. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  Ella,  looking  puzzled. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  interposed   Anne,    scornfully. 


BELLE  CLEVERLY.  237 

"  Those  oranges  that  we  all  supposed  were 
intended  for  Edith  Johnson,  was  Dora's  present 
to  Edgar." 

"  Who  told  you  so  ?  "  said  Dora. 

"  Miss  Cleverly,  I  guess,"  said  Lucy,  with  a 
laugh. 

"  Never  mind  who  told  me.  I  know  it,  and 
that's  enough ;  and  I  want  the  other  girls  to 
know  it,  too,  so  they  won't  have  a  doubt  about 
your  being  just  what  I  told  them  you  were." 

"  What  did  you  tell  them  I  was  ?  " 

"  A.  mean  hypocrite." 

"Dora's  face  turned  red  with  anger,  and  she 
would  have  forgotten  all  about  her  promise  to 
Aunt  Daisy,  had  not  Lucy,  her  good  angel  at 
all  times,  pressed  her  arm  warningly,  and  tried 
to  pull  her  away. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  work  so  hard 
to  turn  all  the  girls  against  me,"  said  she,  calmly, 
after  a  struggle  with  her  temper,  in  which  she 
was  victorious.  "  It's  a  queer  way  of  showing 
your  gratitude  to  me  for  saving  your  life,  I 
must  say. 

"  There  it  is  again !  I  wonder  how  many 
more  times  I've  got  to  be  reminded  of  what, 
perhaps,  you   nev«r   did.     It's    easy   enough    for 


238  DAISY  TRA  VERS 

you  to  say  you  saved  my  life,  when  there  was 
no  one  near  to  prove  you  didn't,  and  I  was 
unconscious." 

"  Do  you  think  you  would  have  got  out  of 
the  burning  barn  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  was  ever  in  it.  I  was 
frightened  by  the  thunder  and  lightning,  I  know : 
but  whether  I  was  outside  or  inside  the  barn 
when  I  fainted  away,  I  have  only  your  word  to 
prove." 

"  Then  you  are  not  ungrateful  —  only  forget- 
ful," said  Dora,  who  could  not  help  speaking 
sarcastically. 

At  that  moment  the  recitation  bell  was  heard, 
which  put  an  end  to  the  altercation. 

After  school  Ella  Meyers,  who  wanted  to  make 
sure  that  Dora's  present  to  Edgar  had  been 
oranges,  said  to  Anne : 

"  Will  you  come  with  me  to  Mrs.  John- 
son's ?  " 

"What  for?"  said  Anne,  twisting  her  head 
around,  to  see  that  her  dress  was  fashionably 
arranged  behind. 

"  To  see  Sarah." 

"  No ;  I  don't  care  about  seeing  her." 

"  Do  come  !  I  want  to  find  out  if  Dora  was 
there  yesterday." 


BELLE  CLEVERLr.  239 

"  Oh ! "  said  Anne,  who  began  to  compre-; 
hend  Ella's  motive  for  going.  She  would  not 
have  hesitated  a  moment  had  she  been  quite 
sure  that  Dora  had  not  given  Sarah  the  oranges ; 
as  it  was  she  said,  doubtingly  :  "  But  it's  such 
a  horrid  place  to  go  to !  Mrs.  Johnson  is  always 
washing,  and  the  smell  of  soap-suds  is  strong 
enough  to  scent  one  through  for  a  week." 

"  Well,  if  you  won't  go  with  me,  Maria  will," 
and  Ella  turned  away  to  go  in  search  of  the 
girl  she  had  named. 

"  I'll  go,  then,  if  you  want  me  to,"  said 
Anne,  jerking  out  the  words  as  though  she  was 
somewhat  provoked. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

AT  MRS.  Johnson's. 

|RS.  JOHNSON  lived  half  a  mile  beyond 
Hive  Hall,  in  a  little  tumble-down  red 
house,  that  could  boast  of  a  piazza  in 
front,  on  which  —  as  Anne  and  Ella  approached 
it  —  a  thin  old  cat  and  four  kittens  were  sleep- 
ing, all  unconscious  that  their  mistress  was  a 
very  poor  woman,  who  could  scarcely  spare  the 
saucers  of  milk  they  received  every  morning  and 
night ;  and  that  often,  while  they  were  enjoying 
it,  she  had  seriously  thought  of  tying  them  all 
up  in  a  bag  together  with  a  stone  for  company, 
and  dropping  them  in  the  pond  that  was  so 
conveniently  near  the  back  of  the  house. 

"  Scat ! "  exclaimed  Anne,  who  disliked  all 
kinds  of  pets,  giving  them  a  quick  push  with 
her  foot,  which  caused  Puss  and  her  four  young 
ones  to  roll  off  the  piazza  step,  before  they  had 
time  to  open  their  eyes.     Puss  soon  picked  her- 

240 


AT  MRS.  JOHNSON'S.  241 

self  lip  and  walked  away,  whisking  her  tail 
angrily  ;  but  the  kittens  lay  just  where  they  had 
fallen,  too  astonished  to  move  for  some  time. 

At  Ella's  knock  Mrs.  Johnson  opened  the 
door.  She  was  a  small  thin-faced  woman,  whose 
skin  looked  as  though  it.  had  been  intended  for 
a  larger  person,  it  hung  so  loosely,  and  showed 
so  many  wrinkles. 

"Is  Sarah  better  to-day?"  interrogated  Ella, 
as  soon  as  the  door  was  opened. 

"Won't  you  walk  in  and  see  her?  She  never 
will  be  any  better  in  this  world,"  said  Mrs.  John- 
son, with  a  weary  sigh,  holding  the  door  open 
wide  for  the  two  girls  to  pass  in ;  then  she  con- 
ducted them  along  a  narrow  passage  to  the 
kitchen,  where  Sarah,  her  only  child,  was  lying 
upon  the  lounge,  in  the  last  stages  of  consump- 
tion. 

Her  face  brightened  up,  as  the  two  girls 
entered,  but  it  immediately  grew  dull  and  life- 
less again  when  she  saw  who  her  visitors  were. 
She  had  doubtless  been  expecting  some  one 
else. 

"  How  do  you  do  Sarah  ? "  said  Ella,  going 
towards  her,  and  offering  her  hand,  while  her 
eyes    sought    the    stand,    near    the    lounge,    on 

16 


242  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

which  were  two  glasses  containing  medicine,  and 
three  oranges  on  a  plate. 

Sarah  took  the  extended  hand,  but  made  no 
reply. 

"  She  doesn't  like  to  talk  much,  it  sets  her  a 
coughing,"  apologized  her  mother,  as  she  thrust 
her  arms  into  a  wash-tub  after  some  clothes, 
that  she  immediately  began  to  rub.  Anne  then 
approached  the  sick  girl,  and  offered  her  hand 
without  speaking  ;  and  a  shiver  passed  through 
her  frame  as  the  thin  white  fingers  closed 
around  her  own. 

Sarah  then  opened  her  lips  and  said  some- 
thing. 

"What  did  she  say?"  questioned  Anne,  of 
EUa. 

"  She  wants  to  know  if  Dora  is  coming," 
interposed  Mrs.  Johnson,  "  Dora  Went  worth, 
from  your  school.  She  comes  nearly  every  day 
and  reads  to  her ;  an'  her  visits  do  her  more 
good  than  the  medicine,  I  think." 

"  Was  she  here  yesterday  ? "  said  Ella  with  a 
look  in  Anne's  face. 

*'  Indeed  she  was,  an'  brought  her  those  nice 
oranges.  You  mustn't  expect  she  can  come 
every  day,  Sarah."     Sarah  was  not  satisfied  with 


AT  MRS.  JOHNSON'S.  243 

that  reply  from  her  mother,  but  looked  inquir- 
ingly into  Anne's  face. 

"  I  couldn't  tell  you  whether  she's  coming  or 
not,"  said  Anne,  in  reply  to  the  look. 

"  If  you  will  get  me  a  book,  I  will  read  to 
her,"  said  Ella,  addressing  Mrs.    Johnson. 

"  Dear !  dear !  where  could  the  likes  of  me 
get  books  ?  Dora  always  brings  a  book  with 
her." 

"  Then  it's  of  no  use  for  us  to  stay  longer," 
said  Anne,  "  as  it  hurts  her  to  talk,  and  we 
have  nothing  to  read  to  her," 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  better  the  next  time  I 
come ;  for  I'm  coming  again,  and  the  next  time 
I'll  not  come  empty-handed,"  said  Ella,  taking 
the  wasted  hand  again  in  her  own,  and  feeling 
ashamed  that  she  had  been  out-done  in  well- 
doing by  one  whom  she  had  been  induced  to 
believe  ill  of. 

"  So  Dora  isn't  a  hypocrite,  after  all,"  said 
she,  as  soon  as  Anne  and  herself  were  in  the 
street  again.  "  I  think  we  have  all  treated  her 
shabbily,  and  I,  for  one,  mean  to  tell  her  so.  I 
always  thought  it  was  strange,  if  she  was  all 
you  said  she  was,  that  Aunt  Daisy  should  think 
so  much  of  her." 


244  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

"  You  can  side  with  her,  if  you  want  to. 
You'll  only  get  laughed  at  by  the  other  girls  ; 
they  know  what  she  is  as  well  as  I  do,"  said 
Anne,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  They  only  know  what  you  told  them,  I 
believe ;  and  Ive  got  something  to  tell  them, 
now." 

"  So  you're  going  to  make  a  great  talk  about 
her  visiting  Sarah  Johnson  ?  " 

"I'm  going  to  tell  them   all  about   our  visit." 

"  If  you  do  you'll  be  sorry  for  it,  for  I'll  have 
you  turned  out  of  the  club ;  so  you'll  lose  a 
great  many  good  times  for  nothing;  for  they  all 
know  that  she^goes  there,  and  they  know  what 
she  goes  there  for,  too ;  she  only  does  it  to 
show  off,  and  make  folks  think  she's  an  angel." 

Ella  made  no  reply,  for  at  that  moment,  as 
they  turned  a  corner,  Lucy  and  Dora,  the  insepa- 
rable friends,  were  seen  walking  towards  them, 
rapidly.  Presently  the  four  girls  were  opposite 
each  other,  and  the  expression  on  each  one's 
face  was  worthy  of  notice.  Lucy's  round,  good- 
natured  face  expressed  perfect  happiness,  if  ever 
a  face  did.  Dora's  was  thoughtful,  Ella's 
troubled,  and  Anne's  expressed  proud  defiance, 
as  she  passed  the  two  without  a  sign  of  recog- 
nition. 


AT  MRS.  JOHNSON'S,  245 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  said  Ella,  pausing 
and  addressing  them. 

"  To  the  widow  Johnson's.  Want  to  come  ?  " 
replied  Lucy. 

"  I've  just  come  from  there,  but  I'll  go  with 
you,  if  you  say  so." 

"  Oh,  we  say  so,  only  you'll  have  to  make 
yourself  useful,  if  you  come ;  for  the  widow 
wouldn't  want  us  to  take  up  her  whole  kitchen 
without  paying  for  the  use  of  the  room." 

"  What  could  I  do  ?  "  questioned  Ella,  as  she 
turned  and  walked  beside  Lucy. 

"  I  can't  tell  till  we  get  there.  What  was 
the  widow  doing  when  you  wer^ there?" 

"  Washing,  as  usual." 

"  She  must  have  had  a  big  wash  to  be  so  late 
about  it.  You  and  I  can  help  her  clear  up, 
while  Dora  reads  to   Sarah." 

"  What  ? "  said  Ella,  inquiringly.  "  Clear 
up  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  hang  out  the  last  of  the  clothes,  clear 
away  the  tubs,  and  fix  the  room  up  spanking 
nice,  while  Mrs.  Johnson  takes  home  the  clothes 
she  washed  yesterday." 

At  that  reply  Ella's  face  took  on  such  an 
expression    of    consternation    that  Lucy  laughed 


246  DAI  ST  TRA  VERS. 

outright,  and  Dora,  laughing  also,  said :  "I  don't 
think  Ella  will   enjoy  going  with   us,  after  all." 

"  I'd  get  my  dress  aU  soiled,  wouldn't  I, 
doing  such  work  ?  "  said  Ella. 

"  You  can  roll  up  your  sleeves,  can't  you  ? 
and  Mrs.  Johnson  will  lend  you  a  big  apron 
that  you  can  tie  round  your  neck,  an'  it  will 
reach  to  the  floor,  and  so  cover  your  dress  all 
up ;  but  perhaps  you'd  better  turn  about  and  go 
with  Anne  ;  she'd  never  speak  to  you  again  if 
she  should  see  you  in  such  an  apron,  that's  a 
fact,"  said  Lucy,  laughing  at  the  thought  of 
the  contempt  that  would  be  visible  on  Anne's 
face,  if  she  should  see  Ella  with  her  sleeves 
rolled  up,  and  such  an  apron  on,  doing  the 
widow  Johnson's  work.  Ella  thought  of  it,  too, 
and  some  of  Luc3''s  spirit  seemed  to  take  pos- 
session of  her  as  their  eyes  met. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  she.  "  My  going  with 
you  two  now,  and  leaving  her  to  go  home  alone 
is  something  she  won't  get  over  very  soon. 
But  I  won't  care  if  you  and   I  can  be  friends." 

"  As  soon  as  you  are  Dora's  friend,  you  are 
mine,"  replied  Lucy. 

"  I'll  not  only  be  Dora's  friend,  but  will  try 
to  make  all  the  girls   know  her,  as  I  know   her 


AT  MRS.  JOHNSON'S.  247 

now,  if  she  has  a  mind  to  be  good-natured,  and 
forget  how  shabbily  I  have  treated  her." 

"  You  treated  me  shabbily?"  inquired  Dora. 
"  I  didn't  know  it  if  you  have." 

"  I  took  sides  with  her  against  you,  and  voted 

you   out   of   the   club,  and   believed   everything 

she  said  about  you." 

« 
"  You    wasn't    to    be    blamed    for    that ;    she 

meant  to  turn  all  the  girls  against  me,  and  I 
knew  she  would  ;  but  it  didn't  worry  me  any, 
as  I  knew  you  all  must  find  her  out  in  time. 
I  expect  she  will  change,  too,  in  time,  and  like 
me  as  well  as  she  does  anyone,  which  isn't  say- 
ing much." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Ella,  "  I 
guess  she'll  never  like  you  as  well  as  she  likes 
Miss  Cleverly." 

"  Who's  Miss  Cleverly  ?  "  questioned  Dora. 

"Why,  haven't  you  heard  about  her?  She's 
a  friend  of  Aunt  Daisy's,  who  is  visiting  her  ; 
she  was  at  our  club,  last  evening,  and  she  and 
Anne  became  great  friends  at  once.  I  should 
have  thought  Lucy  would  have  told  you  about 
her,  as  you  room  together.  I  and  Emma  talked 
about  her  for  a  long  while  after  we  went  to 
bed." 


248  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

"What  was  there  to  talk  about?" 

"  Oh,  dear  !  if  you  could  have  seen  how  she 
was  dressed,  you  wouldn't  ask  that !  I  never 
saw  a  girl  dressed  so   richly  in  my  life   before." 

"Then  you  may  be  sure  it  wasn't  Miss  Clev- 
erly, that  Anne  took  a  liking  to,  but  her  clothes," 
rephed  Dora.  "  Miss  Cleverly,  Avouldn't  have 
been  noticed  by  Anne  if  she  had  been  poorly, 
dressed,  I  know.  What  do  you  think  about  it 
Lucy?" 

"  I  think  just  as  you  do.  Miss  Belle  Cleverly 
in  a  calico  dress  would  have  been  beneath  Anne's 
notice." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Ella,  thought- 
fuUy. 

"  We'll  prove  it,  some  day.  But  there's  Mrs. 
Johnson  at  the  window !  She  sees  us  coming, 
and  she's  grinning  all  over  her  face,  way  up 
into  her  gray  hair!  There  she  goes  now,  after 
the  aprons  I " 

"  I'm  ready  for  one,"  said  Ella   with  a  laugh. 

"  You'll  say  its  right  down  good  fun  when 
you  get  into  it.  And  then  to  see  her  old  face 
light  up  when  everything  has  been  done  as  well 
as  she  could  do  it  herself !  It's  too  bad  that 
Sarah  isn't  a  strong  girl  like  one  of  us  !  "     The 


AT  MRS,  JOHNSON'S.  249 

latter  part  of  Lucy's  sentence  was  delivered  in 
a  low  tone  that  Mrs,  Johnson  might  not  hear 
it,  for  the  three  girls  had  stepped  upon  the 
piazza,  and,  without  knocking  they  opened  the 
door  and  walked  into  the  kitchen,  where  Mrs. 
Johnson  greeted  them  with  a  smile  from  behind 
the  wash-tub. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  girls  had  sent  her 
away,  and  taken  possession  of  the  room.  Dora 
had  brought  a  book  from  the  Hive  Hall  library, 
which  was  full  of  pictures.  This  she  gave  to 
Sarah  to  look  at  while  they  were  "  clearing  up." 
Then  Lucy  disappeared  with  the  basket  of 
clothes  that  were  ready  to  hang  out,  while  Dora 
and  EUa  cleared  away  the  tubs ;  by  the  time 
that  was  done  Lucy  returned,  and  all  three  set 
to  work  to  tidy  up  the  room,  while  the  inerry 
jests  at  Ella's  awkwardness  brought  a  flush  of 
pleasure  to  the  sick  girl's  cheeks. 

When  everything  was  in  order,  Dora  took  the 
book  she  had  brought,  and  seated  herself  beside 
Sarah  to  read  aloud,  until  Mrs.  Johnson  returned, 
which  she  did  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour, 
looking  very  grateful  for  the  help  her  young 
visitors  had  given  her. 

"  What  kind  of  a  time  did  you  have  ?  "  said 
Lucy  to  EUa,  on  their  way  home. 


250  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

"  A  splendid  time,"  replied  Ella,  witli  a  laugh, 
as  she  thought  of  all  that  had  been  done.  "  If 
you  always  have  as  much  fun  it's  better  than 
going  to  the  club,  to  go  with  you." 

"  Meanwhile  Anne  walked  back  to  Hive  Hall, 
angry  enough,  at  first,  at  Ella's  desertion,  but 
she  soon  consoled  herself  with  the  thought  that 
the  next  evening  the  club  would  meet,  and  she 
would  see  Miss  Cleverly  again,  whose  company 
was  much  to  be  preferred  to  Ella's,  or  any  of 
the  girls  at  Hive  Hall. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

A    LETTER    FROM    EDGAB. 

WW  LETTER  fOT  Dora  Wentworth  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Burns,  holding  up  the  epistle 
in  sight  of  the  whole  school,  as  the 
children  were  filing  out  of  the  recitation  room, 
one  afternoon,  a  few  days  later. 

Dora  stepped  up  to  the  teacher's  desk,  as  she 
was  passing  out,  and  received  it,  amid  the  won- 
dering gaze  of  all  her  companions,  for  it  was 
the  first  letter  that  had  ever  been  received  by 
any  of  them. 

"  Come  up  to  our  room,  Roily  ! "  said  she,  as 
she  passed  into  the  entry,  and  ran  up  stairs, 
holding  the  letter  as  though  afraid  of  wrinkling 
it. 

"  Oh,  are  you  going  to  let  me  help  read  it  ?  " 
said  Lucy,  delightedly,  as  she   followed  her. 

"  Of  course.  Here  we  are !  Let's  lock  the 
door,  so  no  one  can  come  in  while  we  are  read- 

251 


252  DAISY  TRA  VERS. 

ing!  I  didn't  think  he'd  write  so  soon,  did 
you  ?  " 

"Who  is  it  from?" 

"  Edgar  Ford." 

"  Is  it  ?  I  forgot  all  about  that  he  was  going 
to  write.  Do  hurry  and  let  us  see  what  he  has 
to  say  !  "  and  Lucy  took  a  seat  beside  Dora  on 
the  bed,  as  curious  to  know  what  the  letter 
contained  as  was  the  one  to  whom  it  was 
addressed.  After  opening  it  carefully.  Dora 
began  to  read  as  follows: 

"Dear  Dora  :  —  I  have  just  finished  a  letter 
to  Aunt  Daisy,  and  will  write  to  you,  as  I 
promised  to  let  you  know  how  I  liked  my  pres- 
ent. I  think  it  is  splendid !  I  opened  the  box 
that  night,  and  was  very  careful  to  have  no  one 
near  when  I  opened  it.  I  might  have  saved 
myself  the  trouble.  I  am  using  it  now,  and  if 
there  is  more  ink  on  this  paper  than  is  necessary 
you  may  know  it  is  caused  by  my  liking  to  dip 
my  pen  in  the  ink  so  often.  The  likeness  is 
good,  too,  and  looks  like  me  ;  only  I  must  say 
I  think  it's  a  little  flattered.  But  as  you  made 
it,  that  is  to  be  expected. 

I  like  going  to  school  here  very  much  ;  and  I 
like  the  boys,  too,  only  I  have  to  keep  my  eyes 
open,  or  they'll  get  the  best  of  me.  The  first 
night  I  came,  after  I  had  gone  to  bed,  and  to 


A  LETTER  FROM  EDGAR.  263 

sleep,  they  came  into  my  room,  and  tied  ropes 
to  each  corner  of  the  sheet,  then  passed  them 
over  hooks  on  the  wall,  and  pulled  the  sheet, 
with  me  in  it,  way  up  in  the  air ;  then  took 
away  the  bed  from  under  me.  They  did  their 
work  so  carefully,  that  they  did  not  wake  me 
up,  and  I  might  have  slept  all  night,  as  though 
in  a  hammock,  only  the  sheet  was  an  old  one, 
and  I  went  through,  down  —  down  —  into  what 
I  thought  was  the  ocean,  but  it  proved  to  be 
only  a  wet  blanket  that  they  had  spread  there 
for  me.  I  kept  my  eyes  about  me  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  boy  that  came  up  to  me  before 
them  all,  and  asked  me  so  politely  if  I  had 
slept  well,  I  knew  was  the  one  that  originated 
that  little  plot,  and  T  have  not  yet  decided  how 
to  reward  him  for  his  ingenuity.  Perhaps  you 
can  think  of  some  way  for  me  to  do  that,  as 
you  were  always  good  at  thinking  of  anything 
in  that  line. 

I  have  no  time  to  write  more  to-day.  Think 
of  some  way  for  me  to  get  even  with  that  boy, 
and  send  your  letter  in  Aunt  Daisy's  care. 

EDGAR  FORD. 

Hollowcliffe  School. 

"  Are  you  going  to  answer  it?  "  said  Lucy,  as 
soon  as  Dora  had  finished  reading. 

"  Of  course." 

"  And  tell  him  how  he  can  get  even  with 
that  boy  ?  " 


254  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  What !  after  my  experience  at  getting  even  ? 
It's  not  likely.  I'll  write  and  tell  him  he'd 
better  let  things  be  just  the  way  they  are,  unless 
he  wants  to  feel  as  though  he  had  suddenly 
made  the  acquaintance  of  all  the  hornets  in  a 
hornet's  nest,  and  then  not  have  the  satisfaction 
of  killing  one.  Only  rogues  should  play  at 
getting  even  ;  good  people  always  get  the  worst 
of  it.  What  do  you  think  Aunt  Daisy  told  me 
last  night.  Roily  ? "  and  Dora,  as  she  spoke, 
folded  her  letter  carefully  away,  then  took  from 
the  table  a  tool  and  began  to  work  away  at  the 
eyelids  on  the  bust  of  Aunt  Daisy. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  what  did  she  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

*'  You  couldn't  guess  if  you  were  to  try  a 
year ;  so  I'll  take  pity  on  you,  and  tell  you. 
She  and  Mr.  Milly  are  going  to  Europe  next 
year,  if  nothing  happens." 

"  I've  heard  of  that  before." 

"  But  that  isn't  all.  They  were  both  in  here 
yesterday,  it  seems,  while  I  was  in  the  school- 
room ;  they  came  to  criticise  that,"  continued 
she,  with  a  nod  towards  the  busts  ;  "  and  some 
one  came  with  them,  too." 

"  Someone  ?  Who  do  you  mean  by  some- 
one ?  " 


A  LETTER  FROM  EDGAR.  255 

"  A  real  sculptor  !  "  Lucy's  round  eyes  grew 
rounder,  as  she  looked  her  surprise,  but  she 
made  no  reply. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Dora,  "  a  real  sculptor  I 
Aunt  Daisy  said  she  brought  him  just  to  see 
that.  I  felt  dreadfully  when  she  told  me.  I 
wouldn't  have  cared  if  it  had  only  been  done  ; 
but  to  have  him  see  such  eyelids  as  those  were 
yesterday !  I  hadn't  got  the  edge  done,  and 
they  looked  more  like  baker's  roUs  than  they 
did  like  eyelids.  But  Aunt  Daisy  said  that  he 
liked  it,  and  now  she  says  that  I'm  going  to 
Europe  with  her,  when  she  goes." 

"  You  going  to  Europe  ?  "  exclaimed  Lucy. 

"  Yes ;  going  to  Italy,  where  I  can  study  the 
great  masters.  She  is  going  to  introduce  me  to 
some  of  the  famous  woman  artists,  and  maybe  I'll 
not  come  back  to  America  for  years. " 

"  Oh,  dear  I  dear  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  say  anything  like 
that,  as  though  you  enjoyed  saying  it." 

"  I  never  enjoyed  saying  anything  so  much  in 
my  life,  and  that's  the  truth,  Roily.  The  only 
thing  I'm  sorry  about  is  that  you  can't  go  with 
me.  If  you  had  only  stuck  to  painting  as  I 
told  you  to,  you  might  go  to." 


256  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"  Stuck  to  painting !  Didn't  I  use  up  the 
box  of  paints  that  Aunt  Daisy  gave  me  for  a 
Christmas  present,  and  no  one  ever  went  into 
ecstacies  over  anything  I  ever  painted.  Aunt 
Daisy  would  say,  '  that's  very  good  Lucy  ;  very 
good  indeed,"  and  that's  the  last  I  ever  heard 
about  it.  I  often  wonder  how  she  came  to  say 
so  much,  when  I  look  at  some  of  the  roses  I 
painted ;  they  look  more  as  though  ripe  cherries 
had  fallen  on  the  paper  and  got  smashed  there, 
than  they  looked  like  roses." 

"  But  you  could  have  done  better  in  time." 

"  In  a  Hfetime,  perhaps,  but  I  don't  expect 
to  have  but  one  lifetime,  and  I  wouldn't  spend 
it  that  way  for  the  world,  even  if  I  had  moun- 
tains of  paint  to  do  with  as  I  please." 

"  Well,  Roily,  just  as  soon  as  I  get  rich  I'll 
come  back  after  you,  and  we'll  live  together  the 
rest  of  our  lives." 

"  Perhaps  I'll  get  rich  first.  If  I  do  I'll  go 
over  after  you,  and  put  an  end  to  your  stone- 
cutting,"  replied  Lucy,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Then  you've  decided  on  what  you're  going 
to  be  ? " 

"  Yes ;  I'm  going  to  be  a  dressmaker.  I'm 
good  at  sewing,  you  know,  and  that's  ttie  onlj*^ 
thing   I  am   good   at.     I'd   rather   be  a   teacher 


A  LETTER  FROM  EDGAR.  257 

like  Mrs.  Burns,  only  I'm  not  smart  enough,  and 
I  don't  think  it's  so  profitable,  either ;  dress- 
makers make  piles  of  money.  Ella  is  going  to 
be  a  teacher  ;  did  you  know  it  ? 

"  No  ;  is  she  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  so  Aunt  Daisy  is  going  to  give  her  a 
better  education  than  she  can  get  here,  as  she 
is  giving  Edgar  Ford." 

"  The  other  boys  are  aU  going  to  learn  trades 
I  suppose." 

"  Yes ;  I  heard  Aunt  Daisy  say  so." 

"I  wonder  what  Anne  Porter  wiU  be?" 

"A  milliner." 

*'  Land  !  I  might  have  known  without  asking. 
She'll  be  happy  if  she  has  all  the  laces  and  rib- 
bons she  wants  to  trim  her  hats  with.  I'U  visit 
her  when  I  come  home  from  Italy,  and  buy  the 
best  hat  she  has  in  her  store.  I'd  find  all  man- 
ner of  fault  with  it  before  I  bought  it,  of 
course,"  and  Dora  laughed  softly  to  herself. 
"  Then,"  continued  she,  "  I'd  call  on  you  to 
get  a  dress  made.  You  wouldn't  know  me,  of 
course." 

"Wouldn't  I?" 

"No  ;  how  could  you  ?  I'd  be  a  woman,  you 
know.  I  wouldn't  let  you  know  who  I  was  till 
the  dress  was   done,  for  fear  you'd   slight  it.     I 


258  DA/S  r  TRA  VERS, 

can  imagine  just  how  you'd  talk  to  your  assis- 
tant :  '  This  dress  is  for  Dora  Wentworth  ;  get 
it  done  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  you  needn't  be 
over  particular,  because  she  doesn't  know  the 
difference  between  running  and  hemming,  or 
stitching  and  felling.'  " 

"  That's  just  the  way  I'd  talk  if  you'd  try 
not  to  make  yourself  known ;  for  I  should  know 
you  if  you  were  a  woman,  and  I'd  make  that 
dress  set  like  —  like  —  well,  like  the  skin  on 
Mrs.  Johnson's  face  ;  there'd  be  just  as  many 
wrinkles  in  it,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  What  would  I  be  doing  all  the  time  you 
were  making  the  dress  ?  " 

"  You'd  be  waiting  for  it  to  be  done,  and 
thinking  I  didn't  know  you." 

"  That's  where  you're  mistaken.  I  could  tell 
at  first  how  that  dress  was  going  to  set,  and  if 
it  didn't  suit  me,  I'd  go  right  to  work  and  make 
the  awfulest  homely  bust  of  you  I  could  make, 
out  of  plaster;  then  I'd  do  it  up  and  take  it  to 
you  when  I  went  for  the  dress,  and  ask  you  if 
you  wouldn't  be  willing  to  take  your  pay  in 
trade,  as  I  really  couldn't  afford  to  give  money 
for  such  a  piece  of  work." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Lucy,  laughing,  "  if  we 
really  could  do  anything  Uke  that,  if  we  should 


A  LETTER  FROM  EDGAR.  259 

meet  after  not  having  seen  each  other  for 
years." 

"  It's  not  likely.  I  couldn't  keep  back  from 
rushing  at  you  and  shaking  you  out  of  your 
shoes,  I  know.  To-night  is  club  night,  isn't 
it  ? "  questioned  Dora,  suddenly  changing  the 
conversation. 

"  Yes ;  and  you  have  no  idea,  Dora,  how 
much  the  girls  want  you  to  join.  Ella  has  been 
telling  them  some  of  the  greatest  things  about 
you  and  me  and  Anne  Porter.  They  have 
nearly  all  turned  against  Anne,  and  no  wonder, 
for  she  is  getting  to  be  so  unbearably  proud 
since  Belle  Cleverly  makes  so  much  of  her,  she'll 
scarcely  speak  to  any  of  them.  They  all  voted 
you  into  the  club,  yesterday,  and  were  indig- 
nant enough  with  her  when  she  wouldn't  give 
her  consent  for  you  to  join.  They'll  turn  her 
out  and  vote  you  president,  yet,  by  the  way 
they're  going  on  now." 

"  For  mercy's  sake.  Roily,  don't  let  them 
think  of  such  a  thing  !  if  you  do,  they'll  spoil 
all  the  fun.  Talk  to  them,  and  teU  them  I 
wouldn't  join,  anyway  ;  that  I've  got  too  much 
work  to  do.  Keep  them  quiet  till  after  Christ- 
mas, when  Miss  Cleverly  will  take  her  grand 
departure ;  then  I  don't  care  what  they  do." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

NEVER   COMING     BACK. 

DON'T  know  what  I  shall  do,  after  you 
are  gone  !  "  The  speaker,  Anne  Por- 
ter, was  walking  up  and  down  the, 
hall,  arm  in  arm  with  Belle  Cleverly,  this  Christ- 
mas eve,  and  the  last  evening  of  Belle's  visit 
to  Aunt  Daisy. 

The  members  of  the  club  were  scattered  in 
groups  all  over  the  hall,  talking  and  laughing 
together,  and  perfectly  unconscious  that  their 
president  was  very  unhappy,  indeed.  They 
might  not  have  cared  if  they  had  known  it,  for 
she  had  ceased  to  be  a  favorite  with  them,  and 
few  took  the  trouble  to  look  at  her  as  she 
passed  by,  arm  in  arm  with  Miss  Cleverly,  who 
was  dressed  this  evening  richer  than  ever 
before. 

"I'm  sure  of  one  thing,"  continued  Anne,  "I 
shall  not  have  anything  more  to  do  with  this 
club."  260 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  261 

"  You'll  not  ?  "  asked  Belle,  in  some  surprise 
righting  her  dress  by  a  graceful  movement  of 
her  disengaged  hand. 

"  No,  indeed.  I  believe  I  hate  every  one  of 
them.  They  haven't  a  thought  above  a  snail's. 
A  snail  doesn't  seem  to  trouble  itself  much 
about  how  it  looks,  and  no  more  do  they." 

"A  snail  couldn't  look  any  better  if  it  tried, 
could  it  ?  "  said  Belle,  with  an  attempt  at  a 
smile.  Laughing  aloud  was  something  she  never 
indulged  in. 

"  But  they  could,  and  that's  where  they're 
beneath  a  snail,  I  think.  Besides,  they  are 
beginning  to  make  a  fuss  because  Dora  Went- 
worth  isn't  allowed  to  join.  I  suppose  they'll 
work  till  they  get  her  in,  then,  of  course,  I 
won't  have  anything  more  to  do  with  it." 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  her  before  I 
went." 

"You  do?" 

*'  Yes.  I'm  curious  to  know  what  she  looks 
like,  I've  heard  so  much  about  her." 

"  She's  a  very  common-looking  girl,  I  can 
assure  you.  Coarse,  and  with  no  more  style 
than  a  —  than  a  —  I  don't  know  what,"  said 
Anne,    who    was    not   good    at    thinking    of    a 


262  DAIS  r  TEA  VERS. 

sirailie.  "But  who  did  you  hear  speak  of  her? 
I'm  sure  I  haven't  mentioned  her  since  the  first 
evening  you  came." 

"  Daisy  and  Mr.  Milly  speak  about  her  occa- 
sionally." 

"They  do?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  in  the  world  do  they  find  to  say 
about  her  ?  " 

"  They  were  talking  yesterday  about  taking 
her  to  Europe  with  them." 

"Taking  her  to  Europe?"  repeated  Anne. 
"What  for?" 

"  Oh,  so  she  can  study,  and  become  a  sculp- 
toress ;  I  think  that's  what  they  said  she  was 
going  to  be.  Did  you  ever  see  any  of  her 
work?" 

"  Work  ! "  scornfully.  "  I  should  call  it  play  ! 
Yes,  I've  seen  a  specimen  of  what,  perhaps,  she 
calls  work,"  said  Anne,  thinking  of  the  pig 
carved  out  of  wood  and  labelled  Anne  Porker, 
that  she  had  found  in  her  desk,  one  morning, 
over  a  year  ago. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me.  I'm  no  judge  of  such  things. 
It's  my  opinion  if  Aunt  Daisy  is  going  to    take 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  263 

her  to  Europe,  she  is  going    to    take    her  there 
just  to  get  rid  of  her." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?" 

"Yes;  and  I  think  the  sooner  she  gets  her 
there,  the  better,  too." 

"  She  must  be  very  disagreeable  to  make  you 
dislike  her  so." 

"  She  is." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  In  every  way  ;  but  I  happen  to  know  that 
she's  a  hypocrite,  which  makes  her  more  disa- 
greeable to  me." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  how  you  came  to  find  that 
out,  will  you?  You  speak  so  positively  you 
must  ^have  proof.  Let's  go  and  sit  over  there 
in  the  corner,  where  no  one  will  hear  what  we 
are  taking  about.  There !  now  tell  how  you 
came  to  find  out  she's  a  hypocrite.  I  like  to 
listen  to  anything  hke  that ;  it's  as  good  as 
reading  a  story." 

"  We  never  liked  each  other,  from  the  first  of 
our  coming  here,"  began  Anne,  after  the  two 
were  seated.  "  But  at  first  she  used  to  show 
her  dislike  plainly  enougli.  She  was  always 
ready  to  say  something  disagreeable  to  me,  on 
every  occasion ;    and   when    she   couldn't   plague 


264  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

me  by  talking,  she'd  think  of  something  to  do, 
such  as  carving  out  a  pig  and  naming  it  Anne 
Porker,  and  putting  it  in  my  desk  ;  and  teach- 
ing her  parrot  to  call  me  names  ;  and  putting  a 
whole  nest  of  young  rats  in  my  best  hat.  I 
can't  begin  to  tell  you  half  the  disagreeable 
things  she  did,  and  laughed  over,  but  the  great- 
est of  them  all  was  her  telling  an  old  gipsy 
woman  to  go  into  my  room  and  steal  my  best 
hat  and  dress.  I  was  in  my  room  when  the 
gipsy  came,  and  she  nearly  killed  me ;  then  she 
came  back  that  night,  and  stole  all  the  chil- 
dren's clothes,  but  Edgar  Ford  managed  to  get 
them  back  again." 

"  It's  a  wonder  my  friend  Daisy  let  her  stay 
here,  after  that,"  Said  Belle,  apparently  much 
interested. 

"  Aunt  Daisy  didn't  know  she  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  gipsy's  coming  for  a  long  time 
afterwards,  then  she  found  it  out  someway;  and 
what  do  you  think  this  Dora  Wentworth  did  ? 
She  convinced  Aunt  Daisy  that  I  was  the  only 
one  to  blame  all  the  time  !  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  could  do  that." 

"  Well  she  did.  Everything  seemed  to  hap- 
pen to  help  her,  too.     Don't  you  think,  one  day 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  265 

we  were  both  sent  to  the  village  on  an  errand, 
and  we  got  caught  in  a  fearful  thunder-storm. 
We  went  into  an  old  barn  for  shelter  and  that 
was  struck  by  lightning,  and  we  were  both 
knocked  senseless.  Dora  came  to  first  and  saw 
the  barn  was  all  on  fire,  and  there  was  no  way 
to  get  out  except  by  a  small  window,  as  the 
door  was  closed  by  burning  timbers;  she  said 
she  tried  to  lift  me  up  to  the  window,  but 
couldn't;  then  when  she  saw  that  the  burning 
roof  would  soon  fall  in,  she  took  a  red-hot  brand 
and  burned  my  hand  with  it  to  bring  me  to  ; 
it  did  bring  me  to ;  there's  the  scar  now.  I 
can  just  remember  of  crawling  through  the  win- 
dow, and  she  after  me,  then  the  roof  fell  in,  and 
I  fainted  away  again." 

"  Then  she  was  the  means  of  saving  your  life, 
after  all.  I  thought  somebody  said  that  was  all 
a  story  made  up  by  her,  and  you  two  never 
went  into  the  barn."  "t 

"  I  was  the  one  that  said  so,  I  guess.'' 

"  Did  you  say  so  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

''What  for?" 

"Because  I  don't  like  to  let  her  know  I  think 
she  saved  my  hfe." 


266  DAIS r  TR AVERS 

"  You  really  think  she  did,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  If  I  had  been  in  the  barn  a  min- 
ute longer  nothing  could  have  saved  me,  I 
know." 

"  Then  why  not  tell  her  so  ?  " 

"  Because  it  would  gratify  her  too  much." 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  could  be ;  but  go  on. 
You  haven't  told  me  yet  how  you  came  to  know 
she  was  a  hypocrite." 

"  I'm  coming  to  that.  After  the  storm,  I  was 
fearfully  sick  for  a  long  while;  but  one  day, 
when  I  was  getting  better,  into  my  room  came 
Dora,  and  she  asked  my  pardon  for  all  the  mean 
things  she  had  ever  said  or  done  to  me." 

"  I  think  that  was  noble  of  her." 

"  I  don't." 

*'  You  don't  ?  why  ?  " 

"  Because  she  only  did  it  to  show  off ;  and 
make  Aunt  Daisy  and  the  girls  think  her  a 
saint,  and  me  a  sinner ;  for  she  knew  all  the 
time  I  wouldn't  pardon  her,  because,  knowing 
her  as  I  did,  I  would  be  sure  to  think  she  was 
only  hatching  some  new  plot  to  plague  me." 

"  Did  you  think  so  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  of  course    I  did." 

"  And  that  was  why  you  wouldn't  pardon 
her?" 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  267 

*'  Yes ;  don't  speak  so  loud !  I  do  not  want 
them  to  hear  what  we  are  talking  about; 
and  after  she  went  out  of  my  room  she  went  to 
Aunt  Daisy,  first,  and  told  her  how  ungrateful 
I  was  after  she  had  saved  my  life,  then  she  told 
all  the  girls  about  it,  and  made  me  out  an  awful 
creature." 

"  But  she  might  have  been  sincere  when  she 
asked  your  pardon,  and  might  have  really  wanted 
to  make  up  with  you." 

"  Ah,  no !  didn't  I  hear  her  tell  Lucy  Stone, 
under  my  window,  not  ten  minutes  after  that, 
she  was  going  to  turn  missionar}',  with  me  for 
the  savage,  and  that  she  had  promised  Aunt 
Daisy  that  she  would  make  me  as  good  a  girl 
as  there  was  at  Hive  Hall ! " 

Belle  Cleverly  started  suddenly,  and  cried 
out,  as  she  looked  into  Anne's  face. 

"  What's  the  matter? "  questioned  Anne, 
soUcitously. 

"Nothing.  I  was  thinking  what  a  fool  she^ 
was." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Wh}',  that  Dora  Wentworth,  to  let  you  hear 
her  say  that." 

"  I  was  very  glad  I  did  hear  her,   I   can  tell 


268  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

you.  I  knew  just  how  to  meet  her  after  that. 
I  succeeded  in  turning  all  the  girls  against  her, 
but  she  managed  to  make  friends  with  Ella, 
lately,  and  Ella  is  doing  her  best  to  make  her 
a  favorite  again.  Let  her  do  it.  I  don't  care, 
now,  for  since  I've  known  you  there's  not  one 
of  them  I'd  care  to  have  for  a  friend." 

"  But  you  won't  have  me  for  a  friend  after 
to-night." 

"  I  shall  have  you  for  a  friend,  if  I  don't  see 
you  very  often.  You  will  visit  Aunt  Daisy 
next  year,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Belle,  with  a  thoughtful 
expression  on  her  face,  as  she  turned  it  towards 
the  children  in  the  centre  of  the  hall. 

"  That  is  strange,"  said  Anne,  disappointedly. 
"  Haven't  you  had  a  good  time  while  you've 
been  here  ?  " 

"  I  never  had  a  better." 

"Then  why  not  come  again?" 

"  Because  I  can't.  You  will  know  why  before 
I  go." 

"I'm  sorry.  I  was  thinking  I  could  look  for- 
ward to  your  next  visit,  if  it  didn't  come  for  a 
year.  You  are  only  jesting  about  not  coming 
again,  I  know." 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  269 

"Belle!  Belle!"  called  Aunt  Daisy,  at  that 
minute,  approaching  them.  "  You  take  up  all 
the  president's  time,  so  she  can't  attend  to  her 
duties.  The  children  are  anxious  to  play  some- 
thing, but  they  don't  know  what ;  can't  you  or 
Anne  suggest  something?" 

"  Won't  there  be  any  reading  this  evening  ?  " 
said  Belle. 

"  No  ;  I  thought,  as  it  is  Christmas  eve,  we'd 
better  omit  the  reading  this  time,  and  let  them 
do  whatever  they  choose." 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  think  of  anything  for  them 
to  do,"  said  Anne,  fretfully,  for  Belle's  informa- 
tion had  dampened  her   spirits  for  the   evening. 

"  Well,  then,  Belle,  if  she  can't  think  of  any- 
thing we  may  as  well  have  that  transformation 
scene  now,  that  we  were  talking  about.  Anne, 
Ella,  and  Emma,  I  want  you  all  to  go  in  that 
closet  and  assure  yourselves  that  there  is  no 
other  way  that  one  could  escape  from  it  but 
through  the  door,"  said  Aunt  Daisy,  opening  the 
closet  door  mentioned. 

'•  Why,  of  course  we  know  that  there  isn't !  " 
said  the  three  girls,  looking  into  Aunt  Daisy's 
face,  questioningly. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  it  ?  " 


270  DAISr  TR AVERS. 

"  Yes  ;  sure  !  " 

"  And  are  all  the  other  children  sure  ?  " 

One  boy,  with  more  curiosity  than  the  rest, 
entered  the  closet  to  investigate,  but  came  out 
soon  with  the  information  that  "  he  couldn't  see 
any  other  way  out,  'cept  through  the  door." 

"And  are  you  sure  there  is  no  one  in  it?" 
continued  Aunt  Daisy. 

"  Course  we  are  I  can't  we  see  into  every  cor- 
ner ?  "  exclaimed  a  little  girl. 

"I  want  you  all  to  be  quite  sure  both  that 
there  is  no  other  way  of  getting  out,  and  that 
there  is  no  one  in  there  now,  because  I'm  going 
to  present  to  you  a  transformation  scene. 
Come,  Belle,"  and  Aunt  Daisy  gently  pushed 
Belle  into  the  closet,  then  shut  the  door  and 
locked  it. 

For  two  minutes  the  children  all  stood  per- 
fectly still,  with  their  eyes  on  the  closet-door, 
not  knowing  what  to  expect.  Presently  a  soft 
knock  was  heard  inside,  and  Aunt  Daisy  opened 
the  door,  presenting  to  view  that  which  caused 
the  members  of  the  reading  club  to  hold  their 
breath  in  astonishment.  They  had  seen  Belle 
Cleverly,  not  three  minutes  before,  dressed  as 
only  Belle  Cleverly  could  dress,  standing  where 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  £71 

now  stood  a  very  plainly  dressed  girl!  Who 
was  she  ?  Could  she  be  Belle  ?  and  was  it  pos- 
sible that  dress  alone  could  change  her  like  that, 
were  some  of  the  thoughts  that  flashed  through 
their  minds,  but  they  had  not  time  to  put  them 
in  words,  before  Anne,  who  was  standing  near 
Aunt  Daisy,  suddenly*  exclaimed. 

"  Dora  Went  worth ! "  instantly  the  other 
children  took  up  the  cry,  and  "  Dora  Went- 
worth !  Dora ! "  escaped  from  every  mouth  in 
the  hall. 

"  How  did  she  get  there  ? "  "  Where  is 
Belle?"  questioned  some,  who  did  not  under- 
stand the  affiiir ;  but  Anne,  after  one  look  at 
the  pile  of  rich  clothing  upon  the  floor,  under- 
stood it  all  perfectly,  and  without  another  word 
she  turned  and  left  the  hall. 

"  Dora  Wentworth !  Was  it  really  you  all 
the  time  ?  "  said  Ella,  who  was  not  yet  willing 
to  admit  that  she  had  been  so  greatly  deceived. 

"  It  wasn't  anybody  else,"  replied  Dora, 
emerging  from  the  closet. 

"Not  even  Belle  Cleverly  I"  said  Lucy,  laugh- 
ing. 

"  I  was  as  much  deceived  as  any  of  the  chil- 
dren," said  Mrs.  Burns.  I  don't  see  how  she 
did  it ! " 


272  DAISY  TRAVERS. 

"She  did  it  cleverly!''''  replied  Aunt  Daisy, 
with  a  merry  laugh,  in  which  the  children 
joined. 

"  Lucy,  you  didn't  seem  to  be  surprised  at 
all!"  said  Ella,  looking  into  the  round  eyes  that 
had  not  grown  rounder  with  surprise  when  the 
closet  door  was  opened. 

"  I  knew  it  all  the  time ;  that's  why,"  was 
the  reply. 

"Then  it  was  mean  enough  in  you  not  to  tell 
me^  when  we  were  such  friends." 

"  I  had  promised  not  to,  that's  why  I  didn't ; 
but  I  wanted  to,  ever  so  many  times  ;  especially 
when  you  said  that  Belle  Cleverly  was  better- 
looking  than  Dora  Wentworth. 

"  Well,  she  was.  I  won't  take  that  back, 
anyway." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  the  same  now,  whether  you  do 
or  not,"  said  Lucy,  laughing  as  usual. 

"  Where's  Anne  ?  "  interrogated  Aunt  Daisy, 
who  had  just  become   aware  of  Anne's   absence. 

"True  enough!  where's  the  president?"  said 
Ella,  looking  over  the  hall. 

"  She's  gone  after  Belle  Cleverly ! "  said  a 
bright-appearing  girl,  and  the  remark  caused  a 
general    laugh,  for    aU    knew    the    feeling    that 


I 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  273 

existed  between  Anne  and  Dora,  and  they  could 
partly  imagine  what  a  state  of  mind  Anne  must 
be  in  at  that  minute. 

Dora's  eyes  sought  Aunt  Daisy's  for  a  moment, 
then  without  a  word  she  left  the  hall  and  pro- 
ceeded towards  Anne's  room. 

She  opened  the  door  softly,  but  could  see 
nothing,  as  there  was  no  lamp  burning  there,  and 
the  room  was  as  dark  as  a  moonless  night  could 
make  it. 

Guided  by  the  sound  of  stifled  sobs,  Dora 
crossed  the  room,  and  laid  a  hand  softly  upon 
Anne's  shoulder. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  said  the  latter,  starting  sud- 
denly, and  swallowing  a  sob. 

"It  is  I— Dora." 

"  How  dare  you  come  in  here  ?  I  should 
think  you'd  be  contented  with  what  you've  done 
for  to-night ! "  and  Anne  was  now  too  angry  to 
sob. 

"  What  have  I  done  that's  very  dreadful  ? 
Come,  Anne !  you  liked  me  as  Belle,  why  not 
like  me  as  Dora,  and  let's  be  friends  ;  it's  time 
we  were,  I'm  sure." 

"  Dora  Wentworth,  I  hate  you  !  What  have 
you  done !  You  have  made  me  the  laughing- 
stock of  the  whole  school  and  village,  too  !  " 


271  DAISr  TRAVERS. 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  No,  you  know  it !  " 

"  If  I  have,  it  will  be  easy  to  turn  the  laugh 
on  them.  All  you'll  have  to  do  is  to  go  back 
to  the  hall  with  me,  and  treat  me  just  as  you 
have  treated  Belle  Cleverly.  They'll  think,  then, 
that  you  knew  it  all  the  time." 

"  Are  you  going  out  of  tins  room,  Dora  Went- 
worth  ?  " 

"  Not  till  I've  explained  two  or  three  things, 
anyway.  It's  all  a  mistake,  Anne,  all  the  way 
through.  1  was  mistaken  in  you,  and  you  in 
me,  especially  when  you  think  I  wasn't  sincere 
when  I  asked  your  pardon  that  time.  I  was  ; 
for  I  was  truly  sorry  for  what  I  had  done  ;  and 
I  thought  you  knew  it,  too,  but  was  too  mean 
to  pardon  me  after  I  had  asked  it  of  you.  How 
was  I  to  know  that  you  mistrusted  my  motive  ? 
and  it  was  no  great  wonder  I  called  you  a  sav- 
age, was  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  of  your  explana- 
tions !  If  you'll  leave  me  alone,  in  my  own 
room  that's  all  I'll  ask  of  you." 

"  Anne,  you're  foolish  I  You'll  only  just  make 
yourself  the  laughing-stock  of  them  all  ?  " 

"  Let  them  laugh !  What  do  I  care  ?  I  hate 
them  all,  nearly  as  much  as  I  hate  you ! "     . 


NEVER  COMING  BACK.  276 

"  It's  a  shame,  Anne,  that  we  two  can't^be 
as  good  friends  all  the  time,  as  we  were  while 
I  was  Belle  Cleverly." 

"  Where  did  you  get  all  those  fine  clothes  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Daisy  got  them  for  me." 

"  She  knew  all  about  it  ?  " 

"  She  was  the  one  that  told  me  to  do  it. 
Where  are  you  going  ? "  for  Anne  had  arisen, 
and  was  groping  in  the  dark  for  the  door. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  repeated  Dora,  on 
receiving  no  answer. 

'*  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  stay  longer  in 
the  same  room  with  you  ?  "  replied  Anne,  at  last, 
hotly. 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all,  I'll  go,  and  you  can  stay." 
With  that  Dora  brushed  by  Anne  in  the  dark, 
ran  down  stairs,  and  entered  the  hall  again. 

"  Well  ? "  said  Aunt  Daisy,  questioningly, 
going  up  to  her  as  she  entered. 

"  It's  just  as  I  expected  it  would  be  ;  its  use- 
less to  think  that  she  and  I  will  ever  be 
friends." 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

CONCLirSION. 

"LL  the  scholars  but  Anne  had  assembled 
early  in  the  dining-room,  the  next  morn- 
y  ing,  waiting  for  Aunt  Daisy  to  make 
her  S,ppearance  and  open  the  door  to  the  room 
in  which  was  the  wonderful  Christmas  tree. 

"It's  my  opinion,"  said  Dora,  who  was  seated 
on  a  window-seat,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  down 
the  road  for  Daisy.  "  It's  my  opinion  Anne 
won't  feel  comfortable  when  she  comes  in.  Let's 
all  see  if  we  can't  treat  her  just  as  though 
nothing  had   happened." 

A  general  laugh  from  the  scholars  followed 
this  speech. 

"  I,  for  one,  am  going  to  ask  her  if  she  does 
not  think  you  did  it  well,"  said  Lucy." 

"  No,  don't !  I  am  sure  Aunt  Daisy  would  not 
like  to  have  you  allude  to  it  again,"  entreated 
Dora. 

276 


CONCLUSION.  277 

"  Well,  then,  let's  only  say,  whenever  we  do 
anything  weU,  we  did  it  cleverly^""  said  Emma 
Goodwin,  with  a  laugh. 

"  See  here,  girls,  we  were  all  mistaken  in 
Anne,  every  one  of  us,  and  I  most  of  all.  I 
didn't  understand  her  any  better  than  she  under- 
stood me.  The  reason  she  wouldn't  pardSn  me 
that  time,  was  because  she  didn't  think  I  was 
sincere  in  asking  her  pardon.  She  thought  I 
was  planning  some  new  way  to  plague  her, 
while  I  thought  she  refused  because  she  was  so 
mean.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what !  you  have  all 
wanted  me  to  carve  your  bust  for  you,  but  I 
couldn't  carve  all,  so  I  didn't  carve  any.  Now, 
I'll  agree  to  carve  a  splendid  bust  of  the  one 
who  succeeds  the  best  in  treating  Anne  just  as 
though  nothing  unusual  had  happened.  Here 
she  comes  !  Look  sharp,  now,  for  I'm  watching 
you !  " 

Aunt  Daisy  and  Anne,  the  latter  looking  proud 
and  distant,  entered  the  school-room  very  soon 
after  Dora  finished  speaking,  and  presently  the 
door  that  had  been  watched  so  impatiently  by 
the  scholars,  was  opened. 

It  would  be  useless  to  try  to  describe  that 
Christmas  tree  and  the  presents  that  were  on  it, 


278  DAIS r  TR AVERS. 

and  around  it ;  and  impossible  to  picture  the 
joy  the  children  of  Hive  Hall  felt  as  the  gifts 
were  bestowed  upon  them  by  Aunt  Daisy  ;  but 
most  of  my  young  readers  will  be  able  to  under- 
stand it  all,  from  their  own  experience. 

Anne  was  made  glad  by  the  present  of  a 
handsome  new  dress,  and  within  an  hour  she 
began  to  show  signs  of  what  the  girls  called 
"  coming  round,"  and  they  did  their  best  to 
encourage  her. 

Later  in  the  day  Dora  was  surrounded  by  a 
demonstrative  group  of  children,  each  one  of 
which  claimed  the  right  to  that  bust  she  had 
promised  to  make. 

"  I  can't  decide  which  one  deserves  it  the 
most,"  said  she,  good-naturedly ;  "  suppose  you 
draw  lots  to  see  who  shall  have  it." 

"  That  would  be  a  mean  way,"  said  Ella. 
"  Those  who  didn't  do  anything  would  stand  as 
good  a  chance  of  getting  it,  as  those  who  really 
exerted  themselves.     Didn't  I  —  " 

"  I  know  you  did,"  interrupted  Dora,  "  but 
two  or  three  others  did  as  well." 

♦'  Draw  lots,  I  say !  "  said  Emma  Goodwin, 
who  had  done  nothing  but  grin. 

*'  That's  the  only  way  to  settle  it,"  said  Lucy. 


CONCLUSION.  279 

'*  Let's  wait  till  Anne  comes  back,  and  let  her 
draw,  too,"  for  Anne  liad  left  the  room  a  minute 
before. 

"  We'll  agree  to  that,"  said  Ella,  laughing. 
."  I'll  cut  strips  of  paper  enough,  and  the  one 
■who  draws  the   shortest  will  be  the  lucky  one." 

A  piece  of  paper  was  soon  produced,  and  the 
strips  were  arranged  ready  for  drawing  when 
Anne  returned. 

"  You  are*  just  in  time,  Anne,"  said  Ella. 
"Dora  has  promised  to  make  a  handsome  bust 
of  one  of  us,  and  will  give  it  to  the  one  she 
makes  it  of.  We  are  going  to  draw  lots,  now, 
to  see  whose  she  will  make.  Come,  girls,  every- 
thing is  ready.  Who's  going  to  draw  first  ? " 
Four  or  five  strips  were  instantly  drawn  by  as 
many  different  hands,  but  the  short  strip  was 
not  among  them. 

"  There,  now,"  exclaimed  Ella,  "  I  guess  you 
all  wish  you  hadn't  been  in  such  a  hurry,  but 
had  waited  till  your  turns  came  properly.  Hare, 
Anne,  you  are  the  best-behaved  one  here  !  you 
can  draw  next." 

"  I  don't  care  about  it,"  said  Anne,  folding 
her  arms,  and  looking  at  the  strips  of  paper 
Ella  held  before  her. 


280  DAIS  r  TR A  VERS. 

"  Oh,  yes !  draw  I  just  for  the  fun  of  it !  " 
urged  Ella ;  and  Anne,  thinking  she  would  not 
be  very  likely  to  draw  the  short  strip,  com- 
plied. 

"The  short  strip!"  "The  short  strip!" 
"  Anne  has  got  it !  "  was  the  shout  that  fol- 
lowed, as  she  looked  at  the  paper  she  had 
drawn. 

"  Any  one  can  have  it  that  wants  it.  I'm  sure 
I  don't  care  for  it,"  said  she,  when  the  noise 
had  partly  subsided. 

"  Oh,  no  !  nobody  else  wants  it,"  interposed 
Lucy.  "  You  drew  it,  fair  and  square,  and  Dora 
is  bound  to  carve  a  handsome  bust  of  you,  and 
give  it  to  you.  Don't  say  anything  more  about 
it  till  yon  see  it ;  then  if  you  don't  want  it  my 
name  isn't  Lucy  Stone  !  " 

Aunt  Daisy,  entering  at  that  moment,  put  a 
stop  to  the  conversation. 

"  Wasn't  it  odd,"  said  Lucy,  that  night,  to 
Dora,  after  they  had  gone  to  their  room  and 
were  preparing  to  retire,  looking  very  tired 
indeed,  after  the  excitement  of  the  day. 
"  Wasn't  it  odd  that  Anne  should  draw  that 
short  strip." 

"Odd  enough." 


CONCLUSION.  281 

"  If  I  were  you  I'd  flatter  that  bust." 

"I  was  thinking  about  that.  I've  tried  for 
over  a  year  to  be  friendly  with  Anne  for  Aunt 
Daisy's  sake,  and  nothing  I  could  do  would 
please  her.  But  that  bust  is  what's  going  to  do 
it!  I'll  make  it  a  great  deal  better-looking  than 
she  is,  then  if  she  doesn't  think  as  much  of  me 
ever  after,  as  she  thought  of  Belle  Cleverly,  I'm 
mistaken  in  her,  that's  all." 

Time  proved  that  Dora  was  not  mistaken  in 
her.  The  bust  was  finished  to  perfection,  and 
presented  to  Anne,  who  warmed  towards  Dora 
immediately  upon  receiving  it.  She  takes  such 
good  care  of  it,  that  it  will,  doubtless,  be  as 
perfect  as  ever  when  she  is  old,  and  bent,  and 
wrinkled;  then,  perhaps,  on  Christmas  days, 
when  she  is  surrounded  by  her  grandchildren, 
she  will  take  it  out  to  show  them  how  she 
looked  when  she  was  a  girl. 

Time  did  more  than  prove  Dora  was  not  mis- 
taken in  Anne.  It  drove  all  the  children,  one 
after  another,  from  Hive  Hall,  and  scattered 
them  far  and  wide,  but  not  before  they  were 
made  strong  enough  to  take  up  their  life-work 
without  faltering. 

One  more  scene,  and  then  our  story  is  ended. 


282  DAI S r  TR AVERS. 

It  was  Christmas  eve,  ten  years  later;  and  Hive 
Hall  was  ablaze  with  light,  for  its  former 
inmates  always  have  a  "reunion"  there,  on  that 
evening.  It  was  yet  early,  and  young  men  and 
women  were  continually  arriving  ;  but  ten  years 
had  worked  such  a  change  with  them  it  would 
be  hard  to  recognize  any  of  them  as  our  old 
friends. 

They  were  assembled  in  the  large  room  that 
was  formerly  used  as  a  school-room,  and  all 
seemed  to  be  talking,  laughing,  shaking  hands, 
and  congratulating  each  other.  But  one  couple 
had  separated  from  the  others  and  seated  them- 
selves in  a  remote  corner  of  the  room;  we  will 
try  to  get  near  enough  to  hear  what  they  say, 
and  perhaps  we  can  recognize  them  by  their 
conversation. 

"If  I  go  back  to  Italy — "  were  the  first 
words  audible,  spoken  by  the  lady,  who  had 
our  old  friend  Dora's  laughing  eyes. 

"If  you  go  back!"  repeated  the  gentleman, 
whose  bearded  face  we  do  not  remember  seeing 
before. 

"Yes;  if  I  go  back,  I'll—" 

"But  I  thought  I  said  in  my  last  letter  you 
must  not  go  back!" 


CONCLUSION.  283 

"Did  you?"  with  a  little  laugh,  "you  always 
were  famous  for  saying  unreasonable  things, 
Edgar  Ford!  Doesn't  Aunt  Daisy  look  hand- 
some to-night?'* 

"Yes;  she's  coming  this  way.  Shall  I  tell 
her  we  have  decided  to  be  married  in  the 
spring  ?  " 

"  There  you  are,  unreasonable  again  !  What 
is  to  become  of  my  art,  and  all  my  dreams  of 
fame  ?  " 

"  Your  art  wiU  live  all  the  same,  I'll  give  you 
my  word  ;  and  as  for  your  dreams  of  fame,  we 
can  grow  famous  together ;  its  ever  so  much 
the  best  way." 

We  could  not  hear  Dora's  reply,  but  know 
that,  in  the  spring,  there  was  a  wedding  at 
Hive  Hall,  in  which  they  were  the  chief 
actors. 

Aunt  Daisy  is  a  middle-aged  woman  now, 
with  boys  and  girls  of  her  own,  and  nephews 
and  nieces,  too,  as  large  as  the  children  who 
first  appeared  at  Hive  Hall;  and  every  Christ- 
mas she  has  them  all  together  at  the  Hall,  with 
the  men  and  women  who  still  call  her  "  Aunt," 
and  their  children ;  and  a  merry  time  they  have. 

Every  year  she  is   more   and  more   convinced 


284  DAISY  TR AVERS. 

that  Hive  Hall  was  a  success,  as  she  beholds 
how  prosperous  and  happy  those  who  were 
its  inmates  are,  and  compares  them  to  what 
they  might  have  been,  had  its  doors  never  been 
opened  to  receive   them. 


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